"Desire itself is movement/ Not in itself desirable;

Love is itself unmoving,/ Only the cause and end of movement,

Timeless, and undesiring/ Except in the aspect of time

Caught in the form of limitation/ Between un-being and being.

Sudden in a shaft of sunlight/ Even while the dust moves

There rises the hidden laughter/ Of children in the foliage

Quick now, here, now, always-- ...

(from Burnt Norton, T. S. Eliot)