"<p>- It is a terrible thing to die (...). - It's not so terrible, Teofil. The person falls asleep slowly and does not wake up again. Just rest and relax. It's good to rest... But life! You will never see a forest again and you will never hear a bird again! But life is so beautiful... You will stay here, Teofil, even after that. It's just that people can't see it anymore... You sprinkle the dew on the grass at night, and you shake the leaves off the trees in autumn. And when the first flower opens in the forest, you will stand by it and paint its petals as you wish. You will fly with the butterflies, and your finger will touch the tips of the pine needles, and they will sparkle from it in the sun, and you will carry, like the breeze, the good smell from one vat to another.</p>"