"Is this, then, what it is to be a God? To know, and never do? To watch the world wind by, and in its winding find content?
If I should feed the world, heal all the wounds man's smoldering industries have made, what would he do? Would he renounce the wealth his sawmills bring, step gently on the flowers instead, and pluck each apple with respect for this abundant world in all its providence?
He would pump more poisons, build more mines, safe in the knowledge that I stood on hand to mend the biosphere, endlessly covering the scars he could now endlessly inflict.
Somewhere the Parliament stand rooted, inert and omnipotent, while tiny spiders drape their ribs in silk.
After this night of reverie, at last I comprehend their stance."
Alan Moore, Swamp Thing #64, p. 17.
[Parliament of Trees: the previous incarnations of Swamp Things]