Dragging for Anchors?

My idea of a patriot.

The bottom of the sea is strewn with anchors, some great, some small, alternately covered and uncovered by sand, perchance with a length of iron cable attached ā€” to which, where is the other end?

Lost at sea due to an inconsequential attachment.

If we had scuba gear adapted to the spiritual depths, we should see soul-anchors and their fatal attachments, as thick as eels in vinegar, wriggling vainly toward the faithful departed.

What has weighed another down is not our treasure.

We seek what none other has found or could find. We are free originals.

Henry David Thoreau (1817-62), revised

what do you think?

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