Monday, June the 21st, 2004
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“The sea-wind sweeps over the spot at times in gusts like the frenzy of hopeless grief, and at times in sighs as gentle as those heaved by aged sorrow in sight of eternal rest. The voices of the great city come faintly over the sand-hills, with subdued murmur like a lullaby to the pale sleepers that are here lying low. When the winds are quiet, which is not often, the moan of the mighty Pacific can be heard dayor night, as if it voiced in muffled tones the unceasing woe of a world under the reign of death.” — O P Fitzgerald, California Sketches (Second Series)