|Pots of Flowers 1860-80 81" x 81" cotton quilt|
by Janet Catherine Berlo and Patricia Cox Crews (page 53)
It was real. I knew it, even in the dark. Raised yellow streak of paint in the wing and feathers scratched in with the butt of the brush. I was different, but it wasn't. And as the light flickered over it I had the queasy sense of my own life, in comparison, as a patternless and transient burst of energy, a fizz of biological static just as random as the street lamps flashing past.
above text from The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt (page 1078)