Well, damn. This is how you know a classic's a classic. Because that author can reach their hand through their words into the future and grab a truth that hasn't happened yet, and reach through with their other hand and grab you, and say "here, see, stop and digest this with your eyes, chew it with your soul."
Case in point: Doesn't this sound like Trump? Makes me as sorrowful for him as I am afraid.
If he needs a million acres to make him feel rich, seems to me he needs it 'cause he feels awful poor inside hisself, and if he's poor in hisself, there ain't no million acres gonna make him feel rich, an' maybe he's disappointed that nothin' he can do 'll make him feel rich.
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