It is the carpe diem religion; but the carpe diem religion is not the religion of happy people, but of very unhappy people.

[T]hose coming to the warehouses' doors fired them, and burned all the books and the pillars of the church, […] A great want thereof there will be of books, specially Latin books and foreign books; and, among others, the Polyglottes and new Bible, which he believes will be presently worth £40 a-piece.

The evolutions and involutions of a maiden effort at Dress Parade are incomprehensible as ravings of the salaried jawsmith in a labor strike, who has burst into a profuse state of prevarication as the rosy beer-froth mantles his sublime cheek.

The rooms downstairs were cottoned, the doors re-hung, and a counter put in the record office.