"So I assumed a double part and cried
And heard another's voice cry: "What! Are /you/ here?
Although we were not. I was still the same,
knowing myself yet being someone other--
And he a face still forming; yet the words sufficed
To compel the recognition they proceeded.
And so, compliant to the common wind,
Too strange to eachother for misunderstanding
In concord at this intersection time
Of meeting nowhere, no before and after
we trod the pavement in a dead patrol.
I said: 'The wonder that I feel is easy,
Yet ease is cause of wonder. Therefore speak:
I may not comprehend, may not remember.'"
- Little Gidding lines 97-110, from T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets
T.S. Eliot is rolling over in his grave right now, at having had his poetry compared to a pair of homoerotic pop culture saturated vampires.