Another Nemo addition:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre. The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.

The blood-dimmed ride is loosed, and everywhere. The ceremony of innocence is drowned.

The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity, Surely some revelation is at hand; Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

Reel shadows of the indigent desert birds. The darkness drops again; but now I know That twenty centuries of stony sleep Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

William Butler Yeats, “The Second Coming”