As the end of the century approaches, all our culture is like flies at the beginning of winter. Having lost their agility, dreamy and demented, they turn slowly about the window in the first icy mists of morning,…then they fall down the curtains. – Charles Baudelaire
Faithfulness to the past can be a kind of death above ground. Writing of the past is a resurrection the past then lives in your words and you are free. – Jessamyn West
