An empty man is full of himself.

For there is a cloud on my horizon. A small dark cloud no bigger than my hand. Its name is Progress.

We always used to think it didn’t matter, that when you mined out one area, or farmed it out, or overgrazed it, you could move to new country beyond the hills, keep moving West. But there are no new places to go anymore. The land is full. We have to stay where we are, take care of what we have. There isn’t going to be anything else.