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“Alive or dead," he told himself, "I am just so much manure. One hundred and sixty-five pounds of it, belong by right to the nearest field of corn. Take me out among the hills and lay me down there, a willing hostage from mankind, a tribute to the silent way, the august overlordship of the Vegetable Kingdom.” — Robert M. Coates
Alive or dead," he told himself, "I am just so much manure. One hundred and sixty-five pounds of it, belong by right to the nearest field of corn. Take me out among the hills and lay me down there, a willing hostage from mankind, a tribute to the silent way, the august overlordship of the Vegetable Kingdom.