I left his arm that night myself / For what's-his-name's, the new prose-poet / Who wrote the book there, on the shelf

At the End of the Age, arose the Question of Thaboretick Light, betwixt the Barlaamites and Palamites; which is agitated with great Heat in Synods, with Anathema's and biting Libels; as if they were striving for the chief Articles of Faith, and as if the whole of Religion consisted in such Trifles.

Nor be such buggarddes to the poor, yff they may not beare the bagge alone.

Like a weary insomniac, France too greeted the relieving dawn chiefly longing for one thing only – repose.