“Those who profess to favor freedom, and yet depreciate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground. They want rain without thunder and lightning. They want the ocean without the powerful roar of its many waters.”

I started listening to the wolves and the timber, wolves and the timber at night…
I wake in the field with the cold and the lonesome—the moon’s the only face I see

So long, so high….

I see so much magic though I missed it at the time