ABSTRACT
Acton, Loren When you look out the other way toward the stars you realize it’s an awful long way to the next watering hole.
Aeschylus This waste of year-long vigil I have prayed God for some respite, watching elbow-stayed, As sleuthhounds watch, above the Atreidae’s hall, Till well I know yon midnight festival Of swarming stars, and them that lonely go, Bearers to man of summer and of snow. . .
