Saturday, April 3, 2010
Gillespie: Tin Tin Deo
Nothing is constant in the whole world. Everything is in a state of flux, and comes into being as a transient appearance . . . don't you see the year passing through a succession of four seasons? . . . In the same way our own bodies are always ceaselessly changing. . . . Time, the devourer, and all the jealous years that pass, destroy all things, and, nibbling them away, consume them gradually in a lingering death. . . . Nor does anything retain its appearance permanently. Ever-inventive nature continually produces one shape from another. . . . Though this thing may pass into that, and that into this, yet the sum of things remains unchanged.- Ovid, The Metamorphoses, trans. Mary M. Innes (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1970).