Alistair Cooke

I got out of the car and wallowed in the silence and the singing colour and the balmy heat. At the rim of my tyre I noticed that the smooth white cement of the highway had cracked under the tension of a cranberry vine. And through this crack, and edging into the highway, wild cranberries grew. I looked ahead at the engineered boulevard of the highway, pouring like two ribbons of toothpaste to the horizon, quite heedless of its defeat by the concentrated violence of a tiny and delicate vine. That just about put industrial knowhow in its proper place. and I climbed back and went on, warming to the excitement of what was to come.

- The Fall of New England (Letter From America)