" Perhaps I will paint this town—from a distance, as if it is on a far hill—and in the foreground, an enclosure of gold, a secret garden, a retreat in which I am safe. I will hide there, and the hand of god will wipe all tears from our eyes; there will be no crying, neither will there be any more death, because the former things will pass away. The invisible hand that guides our deeds, our acts, our markets, will not be able to touch me there. Outside of space and time, time and space, there will be no distance between ourselves and what we wish for; no infinite gulf between currencies; the gulf between currency and eternity is great enough.
The sky above me glows like the ancient patina of saints. "

― M.T. Anderson , Landscape with Invisible Hand