From my rotting body, flowers shall grow, and I am in them, and that is eternity. — Edvard Munch
You have never loved me. You have only thought it pleasant to be in love with me. — Henrik Ibsen, A Doll’s House. (Hard Press November 3, 2006) Originally published December 1879.
Without anxiety and illness I should have been like a ship without a rudder. — Edvard Munch