I thought the pile of pine needles was a dead raccoon. I thought I would use the iron that I purchased. I felt the great vertical and social faces shone with promise. I thought everyone had more soul than they could ever use, or know. I thought terrific, lasting projects must be improvised out of the materials at hand. I thought I heard someone call out across a middle distance. I thought I would read all the books on the shelves. I thought I had time for any number of things. I felt I could stand it. I thought things would occur by chance. I felt I must contrive a strategy.