"Everybody had a good roof, and the cougars and bears were gone; the town had incandescent lights, planked streets, and a railroad. Harmonizing with these improvements, in a spirit of thanksgiving to the Creator, was proper and good. Every jot and tittle beyond that, every chasing after distinction and a backlog of money, was chaff and blowing wind; the dazzle of it blinded people, and the clamor of it deafened them. They were helpless, scared, and pretty well cultured, so they tightened the houses and raised cities as bulwarks, as suits of armor over suits of mail, to shield them from the pointy glance of heaven. On the scales they are lighter than a breath, all of them together."

- Annie Dillard, The Living