long and given to the playing of card games and the drinking of liquors andthe appreciation of music, the boarding and unburdening of love, the lookingout through rimed windows, the hearing of the wind, and the stroking of thecollie's fur--there, in that still center, called winter on Earth, wherethings regroup within the quiescence and ready themselves for the inexorablefrolic thrusting, to dot with periods of green the graywetbrown that followsthe snow, to spend later panics of color upon a dew-collecting,insect-fetching morality of mornings through which you walk, now walk,savoring these things through the pores of your skin--there, I want you toremember, where the seasons proceed in this manner to bear notions of thedistinctive pattern of human existence, to tattoo genes with the record ofmovement through time, to burn into the consciousness of your kind therhythms of the equally true "Judge thou no man fortunate till he be dead,"and the rearing of the Aristophanic Pole--there, is set the place of yourorigin, is laid the land of your fathers and your fathers' fathers, revolvesthe world you must never forget, stands the place where time began, whereman, brave, devised tools to modify his environment, fought with hisenvironment, his tools, himself, and never fully escaped from any ofthem--though he freed himself to wander among the stars (do not fear _this_stardo not fear it, though it grows warmer)--and to make his sort of beingimmortal upon the plains of the universe, by virtue of dispersion untoubiquity, fertility unto omnipresence (and always remaining the same,always, always! do not forget! do not ever forget--things--such as the treesof the Earth: the elms, the poplars like paintbrushes, the sycamores, theoaks, the wonderful-smelling cedars, the star-leafed maples, the dogwood and