I was late to my seat by the river this morning (and with a particularly lousy cup of tea, I might add: the nice guys at the nice deli make old-tasting tea, worse than what the rude guys at the snotty deli make, but I hate to go there). The sun had cleared the buildings and was washing the river in a bright, diffuse light. A very low tide had exposed a thick forest of old pilings where the pier used to be: on high-tide days water covers most of these, leaving isolated islands, each with its own gull on top. Today the wind was strong and steady, and the gulls had gotten lucky. A woman stood at the rail throwing pieces of her morning bagel into the air. A flock of gulls, about a dozen, hovered, diving into the water for bagel pieces or occasionally catching one in the air. The amazing thing was how well they kept their positions in the air relative to her and to each other. They remained practically stationary, slowly flapping into the wind, just enough counter-effort to stay where they wanted to be. Some of the dog-walkers' dogs, the hunting breeds, strained at their leashes as they went by. I guess it looked like an air-borne buffet to them.

And now this, from Thomas Jefferson, from a letter he sent in 1798 after the passage of the Sedition Act:

"A little patience, and we shall see the reign of witches pass over, their spells dissolve, and the people, recovering their true sight, restore their government to its true principles. It is true that in the meantime we are suffering deeply in spirit, and incurring the horrors of a war and long oppressions of enormous public debt... If the game runs sometimes against us at home we must have patience till luck turns, and then we shall have an opportunity of winning back the principles we have lost, for this is a game where principles are at stake."