Steeds, steeds, what steeds! Has the whirlwind a home in your manes?

Perfect nonsense goes on in the world. Sometimes there is no plausibility at all

You can't imagine how stupid the whole world has grown nowadays.

Two turtle doves will show thee Where my cold ashes lie And sadly murmuring tell thee How in tears I did die

It's the most righteous, which of course is not the same thing as the most profitable.

We have the marvelous gift of making everything insignificant.

Ah, steeds, steeds, what steeds! Has the whirlwind a home in your manes? Is there a sensitive ear, alert as a flame, in your every fiber? Hearing the familiar song from above, all in one accord you strain your bronze chests and, hooves barely touching the ground, turn into straight lines cleaving the air, and all inspired by God it rushes on!