We keep going, locked into our little umwelts, only occasionally remembering to look up.

There have been suggestions by a number of American neoconservative hawks to denuke Iran with “swift, massive, devastating force that decapitates the regime.

Our ancestors, who were forest dwellers, bequeathed us a legacy of wonder tales in which forests have a significant role […] One route would start from a refuge in a clearing. The path would set forth in a bright and optimistic manner. Difficult choices would appear. Divergent paths would become stony, enter dark woods and descend through sloughs of despond.

… I say. Ripton resumed the serious intonation, do you think they'll ever suspect us? What if they do? We must brunt it. We brunted the storm.