William Cullen Bryant

All that tread,The globe are but a handful to the tribes,That slumber in its bosom.

All that tread,The globe are but a handful to the tribes,That slumber in its bosom.

– William Cullen Bryant –

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Peter S. Beagle

I will miss it so,” she said beside him. “This hell of a place, I will miss it so much. This fat body, walking mud puddle, deceived by everything, this impossible, ruinous accident of a world, these people who would truly rather hurt one another than eat—oh, there is nothing, nothing, nothing I would not do to stay here ten minutes longer. Oh, I will leave claw marks, I will drag mountains and forests away under my fingernails when I am dragged off. Such a stupid way to feel. I will be all dirty from clutching at this stupid planet, and the gods will laugh at me.

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