Don't speak to me about nature. I have no love for her. I feel and see only death. Even your beauty wilts and perishes before my eyes with the decay of time. I feel it building in momentum each passing day with sickening acceleration. It will not slow, and everything is lost within its great hunger. It makes all that is now a pleasure a bitter pain, knowing it is all to be lost in the end.

Autor: Elita Daniels