I can’t recall at whose behest I ordered The Geography of the Imagination, but I did and it came and I’ve been nibbling at it for a week or so now. Quite a few memorable bits of erudition and copious novel linkages of things I only sort-of know about, but tonight I was brought up short by one sentence:

One suspects that Thoreau would have married a woodchuck or a raccoon, if the biology of the union could have been arranged… (pg 71)