“My dreams are going through their death flurries. I thought they were
all safely buried, but sometimes they stir in their grave, making my
heartstrings twinge. I mean no particular dream, you understand, but the
whole radiant flock of them together—with their rainbow wings,
iridescent, bright, soaring, glorious, sublime. They are dying before
the steel javelins and arrows of a world of Time and Money.”
~ Barbara Newhall Follett
