One day the last portrait of Rembrandt and the last bar of Mozart will have ceased to be — though possibly a colored canvas and a sheet of notes will remain — because the last eye and the last ear accessible to their message will have gone.
–The Decline of the West, Vol. 1, Oswald Spengler (1918)
A young pine tree had taken root in the rubble of a fallen palace. Only a year ago it had been the first harbinger of the approaching forest. But now, as it looked about, it saw new saplings far and wide.
“Now we’re getting somewhere!” cried a woodpecker who was hammering at the trunk, and looked with satisfaction at the spreading forest and the magnificent green progress that was covering the earth.
–The City, Hermann Hesse