I am not saying I am not sane, but if I were a blade of grass, and you had removed my head like that, I would not be looking up to you this morning as I am, or even looking back. No. I am not saying I am not sane. I am saying, sane or not, that the root of my claim, although not seen, is its imagined depth. And that is my definition not of envy,
but of green.
Arthur Conan Doyle: A Life in Letters
The Letters of James Russell Lowell