Phosphines

Phosphines

The king turns gravely purple from rubbing the wrong page. The gilded frames hang silent in such a golden age of science and its byways, where larking sets the pace with fervor and devotion to free the human race. And who knows what will happen in such a brave new world. Perchance with other planets we'll sail into accord. Get wind of the Venusians, proclaim there's life on Mars, appease the starry-eyed, aerate the boudoirs.