Liberties There's nothing Artificial about our Intelligence

*   *   * The Earth, stuffed to the gills with burning coals and consuming itself from its birth bristling with folds that sharpen into peaks, sometimes of short hairs sometimes forming dark dense beards and hollowed out with giant cavities filled with restless water from which emerged the grand debris of its genesis and full of shallow holes where other waters drowse   Despite the gravity, everything pushes upward springs toward its Creator   The sun, a rival, pulls everything toward itself, pulls dangerously To avoid catching fire the grass clings to the soil, the tree spreads its foliage In its shadow the man stretches out, then one day lies down forever some few feet underground