Edvard munch

From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.

Your face encompasses the beauty of the whole earth. Your lips, as red as ripening fruit, gently part as if in pain. It is the smile of a corpse. Now the hand of death touches life. The chain is forged that links the thousand families that are dead to the thousand generations to come.

I love to watch my kids stand under the tree and munch on (fruit). It's a constant pleasure to see them get past the bumps and spots on the fruit to realize it's as good as -- or better than -- store-bought.