Explore "Prufrock and Other Obsevations: Conversation Galante" by T.S. Eliot on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I observe: "Our sentimental friend the moon
Or possibly (fantastic, I confess)
It may be Prester John's balloon / Or an old battered lantern hung aloft / To light poor travellers to their distress." / She then: "How you digress!"
And I then: "Some one frames upon the keys / That exquisite nocturne, with which we explain / The night and moonshine; music which we seize / To body forth our own vacuity." / She then: "Does this refer to me?" / "Oh no, it is I who am inane."
"You, madam, are the eternal humorist / The eternal enemy of the absolute, / Giving our vagrant moods the slightest twist / With your air indifferent and imperious / At a stroke our mad poetics to confute -- " / And -- "Are we then so serious?"