I ought never to have taken my lantern to see what was going on in the hut by the granary. On the other hand, there was no way, once I had picked up the lantern, for me to put it back down again. — J. M. Coetzee
And the trunk was carrying the severed head,
Gripping its hair like a lantern, letting it swing,
And the head looked up at us: “Oh me!” it cried.
He was himself and his lamp as he strode along,
Two in one and one in two — and how it can be,
Only he knows, who so ordains the thing.