The eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg are blue and gigantic – their irises are one yard high. They look out of no face, but, instead, from a pair of enormous yellow spectacles which pass over a nonexistent nose. Evidently some wild wag of an oculist set them there to fatten his practice in the borough of Queens, and then sank down himself into eternal blindness, or forgot them and moved away. But his eyes, dimmed a little by many paintless days, under sun and rain, brood on over the solemn dumping ground.

what if we kissed in the valley of ashes?

brooding blondes

I've been in the bath too long, and now I'm wrinkly and scared.

hot bath

"Nobody’s coming out of the sky. There’s no heaven there. We’ll have to make heaven down here.”

bubblegum stacy