Maybe some day Dr. Rabelais, whose universal cure was laughter, will return and with him rowdy Festivals in the Great Hall. Turn and turnabout, whether in the way of muses, or in the ways of servant and one served, or of wealth and power, or the cycles in Fortune's ever turning Wheel, or the cycles of the tides, seasons, liturgy, and generation, is only fair, and without it, "nothing gold can stay." (Frost on autumn foliage.)
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