Death not merely ends life, it also bestows upon it a silent completeness, snatched from the hazardous flux to which all things human are subject. 
Hannah Arendt

You pile up associations the way you pile up bricks. Memory itself is a form of architecture.
Louise Bourgeois
Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Only your eyes are unclosed to see the black and folded
town fast, and slow, asleep.
Dylan Thomas, Under Milk Wood
Time passes. Listen. Time passes.
Come closer now.
Dylan Thomas, Under Milk Wood
“I had a little bird, its name was Enza.
I opened the window and in – flu – enza.”
Children’s skipping song 1918

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