(O I see what I sought to escape, confronting, reversing my cries, I see my own soul trampling down what it ask’d for.)
Keep your splendid silent sun, Keep your woods O Nature, and the quiet places by the woods, Keep your fields of clover and timothy, and your corn-fields and orchards, Keep the blossoming buckwheat fields where the Ninth-month bees hum; Give me faces and streets—give me these phantoms incessant and endless along the trottoirs!
The volunteers of PlanetThoughts.org are happy to give you their best selection of news, opinion, reviews, stories, quotes, tips, and more. We hope you enjoy the reading... and thinking. Thanks!
Fossil Fuel
TheTeam
