The Wasteland, T.S. Eliot
"April is the cruelest month, Breeding lilacs out of the dead land, Mixing memory and desire, Stirring dull roots with spring rain."
The dark irony being that nothing can be crueler than hope. But at least there was that. I believe August is the cruelest month. The hope of new beginnings has been realized, is at its height, and can only die.
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