If you of exceptional intellect finally tire of the nit-picking and the cutting up of trucks and trifles, that we, the pedestrians of the board, inflict upon your exceptional sensibilities; And so you decide to quit this board and move to a mountain cabin where you will speak only to minor gods, assorted demons, and yourself. Then please leave us , the un deserving, in style, quote this poem by Dorothy Parker...

Sanctuary

My land is bare of chattering folk;
The clouds are low along the ridges,
And sweet's the air with curly smoke
From all my burning bridges.