What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water.
- T. S. Eliot, The Waste Land
Sunday, 20 March 2011
Eliot on projects without Continuous Integration
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