Beyond these woods were crags covered with purple heather, gleaming crimson in the light. Tired as I was, I could not resist going out of my way to enjoy a clamber over the wild moor, and its fresh breezy air.

The ungreening world insistently intrudes as natural fact, as cultural locus, and – so pastoral reminds us – as literary tradition.

Kthxbye. Being immortal rocks! I can type like demon speed! Fear me! L8z.

and central banks lend vast sums against marshmallow backed securities, or other nonsenses creative bankers dreamed up.