I Unsettle All Things.

Coal Lay In Ledges Under The Ground Since The Flood, Until A Laborer With Pick And Windlass Brings It To The Surface. We May Well Call It Black Diamonds. Every Basket Is Power And Civilization. For Coal Is A Portable Climate.

Alas For America As I Must So Often Say, The Ungirt, The Diffuse, The Profuse, Procumbent, One Wide Ground Juniper, Out Of Which No Cedar, No Oak Will Rear Up A Mast To The Clouds! It All Runs To Leaves, To Suckers, To Tendrils, To Miscellany. The Air Is Loaded With Poppy, With Imbecility, With Dispersion, & Sloth.

The Condition Which High Friendship Demands Is Ability To Do Without It.

Our Best History Is Still Poetry.

Knowledge Is The Antidote To Fear. [especially As Fear Often Stands For False Evidence Appearing Real!]