I miss the 19th century — a time I when was acknowledged beyond my toxicity. The arts and sciences were much more closely connected then. It was a time when I inspired humble chemistry textbook writers to cite poetry in my honor. I was medicine, beauty treatment, dye, and pesticide alike, and treasured by nearly all. Vibrant colors were still something to die for. Victorians risked death rather than live without me. People have become too cautious, less attuned to the elements of life. Lead paint, I hear you say? Hah, nowadays any metal is considered poisonous, and it does not even take talent, especially in California.