'Lass, it's very poetic, albeit in a bleak Gothic sort of way, but, begging your pardon, I look up and I don't see the ceiling. All I see is a lot of damned Frenchmen looking down their noses at me from a mile high. I must pull them all down to my level, or draw myself up to theirs, before I can judge whether I have succeeded in making a dune, or what-have-you. So let us turn our attentions thither.'