From The Disguise of Events...
A strategist of the flying wedge has encoded a peace offering conducive to the orchestration of events toward which we unhesitatingly gravitate. He cried, surmount your conqueror fetish, find a flat board for better leverage and hurdle all that sludge thatll otherwise beset you.
Someone dislodged the doorstop before their disenchantment, before their formidable task of weighing down the trunks. Such an abrogation of the commonest courtesies could only inspire us to wonder if such an act were not analogous to a situation we would rather have left unnamed, untouched, unnoticed.
Others conspired against us. They wanted to take all that we were so disinclined to give. Our gold, such paucity, had no intrinsic value. It was only a fools gold, after all, and we tried to tell them so.
The others have called our friends new book an aberration. Soon after they set this libel afoot his mailbox became inundated with hate mail, the most salacious comments! The truth has been taxed, impounded even. We kept quiet all throughout the mad carousel of that exhausting, irrevocable week.
What he once volunteered to do has now been forced upon him. What had been impossible to do such a short time before has now been rendered not only possible but absolutely necessary and essential.
Quick, hand him that hammer.