Frederic Edwin Church The Icebergs painting

Frederic Edwin Church The Icebergs paintingFrederic Edwin Church Cotopaxi paintingFrederic Edwin Church Twilight in the Wilderness painting
Babylon, where we sat down, oh oh we wept_ . . . she stopped the tape, leaned back again, began to recite. "If I forget thee, O jerusalem, let my right hand forget its cunning; if I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; yea, if I prefer not Jerusalem in my mirth."
Later, asleep in bed, she dreamed of her convent school, of matins and evensong, of the chanting of psalms, when Jumpy rushed in and shook her awake, shouting, "It's no good, I've got to tell you. He isn't dead. Saladin: he's bloody well alive." group of us are sat around shooting the breeze, talking about this that and everything else besides. Like all British people we always end up with a bit of weather-related chat when the conversation flags. And sure enough, before long, James is complaining about the unseasonably cool and wet weather that we're having at the moment.
"It just flies in the face of all that 'global warming' crapola, right?" says James.