From Eliot's Little Gidding

 If you came this way, 

Taking any route, starting from anywhere, 

At any time or at any season, It would always be the same: you would have to put off Sense and notion. 

You are not here to verify, Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity 

Or carry report. You are here to kneel 

Where prayer has been valid. And prayer is more 

Than an order of words, the conscious occupation 

Of the praying mind, or the sound of the voice praying. 

And what the dead had no speech for, when living, 

They can tell you, being dead: the communication 

Of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living. 

Here, the intersection of the timeless moment 

Is England and nowhere. Never and always.