Severin M’s Reviews > A Short History of Decay > Status Update

The Tree of Life will no longer have spring as one of its seasons: too much dry wood; out of it will be made coffins for our bones, our dreams, and our griefs. Our flesh inherited the smell of lovely carrion scattered in the millenia. Their glory fascinated us; we exhausted it. In the Mind's graveyard lie the principles and the formulas: the Beautiful is defined and interred there... the True, the Good... all rotting

"I wanted to love heaven and earth, their exploits and their fevers - and I have found nothing which failed to remind me of death: flowers, stars, faces - symbols of withering, potential slabs of all possible tombs!"