A beech wood with silver firs in it rolled down the face of the hill, and the maze of leafless twigs and dusky spires cut sharp against the soft blueness of the evening sky.

And you can see from the Spockian ears and the raised eyebrows, he had a positive Mephistophelian look.

I’d just read a news story about how women are getting more and more beautiful while men remain as pathetically cavemanny as ever.

This discussion leads us to a Dostoevskyian link between suffering and humanity and man’s dependency on divine law to protect the individual from the nihilistic rejection of the supreme value which provides the necessary injunction against anti-social acts and relinquishment of morality.