As a confirmed melancholic, I can testify that the best and maybe only antidote for melancholia is action. However, like most melancholics, I suffer also from sloth.

Who needs astrology? The wise man gets by on fortune cookies.

The majority of American writers today have chosen passive non-resistance to things as they are, producing sloughs of poetry about their personal angst and anomie, cascades of short stories and rivers of novels obsessed with the nuances of domestic relationships - suburban hanky-panky - chic boutique shopping mall literary soap opera. When they do speak out on matters of controversy they attack not the evils of our time but fellow writers who may insist on complaining.

Roosters: The cry of the male chicken is the most barbaric yawp in all of nature.

Simply because humankind have the power now to meddle or 'manage' or 'exercise stewardship' in every nook and cranny of the world does not mean that we have a right to do so. Even less, the obligation.

Why is it that the destruction of something created by humans is called vandalism, yet the destruction of something created by God is called development?

Indolence and melancholy: Each generates the other. If one can speak of such feeble passions as generating anything.