You can only linger on a day that is minute long.
The air re-invents itself as, solid, insurmountable defeats.
And, wisdom of a mile transforms to glued retreat.
It is nothing but cabin fever…at the foot of a rural seat.
In good health, the air is cordial of incredible virtue. Crossing a bare common, in snow puddles, at twilight, under a clouded sky, without having in my thoughts any occurrence of special good fortune, I have enjoyed a perfect exhilaration. I am glad to the brink of fear.
Ralph Waldo Emerson