When a rich man is hurt his wail goeth heavens high and none may say he heareth not. - William Morris

The past is not dead, it is living in us, and will be alive in the future which we are now helping to make.

Whilom, as tells the tale, was a walled cheaping-town hight Utterhay, which was builded in a bight of the land a little off the great highway which went from over the mountains to the sea. The said town was hard on the borders of a wood, which men held to be mighty great, or maybe measureless; though few indeed had entered it, and they that had, brought back tales wild and confused thereof.

The lost and found the Cause hath crowned, The Day of Days is here.