is it worse if we invented sadness or if it was here all along waiting for the earth to grow a creature capable of detecting it — Kimmy Walters, from “Build A Little Shrine For The Dead,” Killer. (Bottlecap Press 2016)
Nothing is more fleeting than the external form, which withers and alters like the flowers of the field at the appearance of autumn. — Umberto Eco, The Name of the Rose. (Everyman’s Library; First Edition edition September 26, 2006) Originally published 1980.