Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench’d our steeples, drown’d the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o’ the world!
Crack nature’s moulds, an germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man!
King Lear, Act 3, Scene 2
King Lear, 1788/1806 by Benjamin West (1738–1820)
Biblioklept 
‘E were a good railer, eh? Good ol’ willie!
LikeLike
Rave on, rave on.
https://www.google.com/search?q=its%20the%20end%20of%20the%20world%20as%20we%20know%20it
Shared via the Google app
random chaos
LikeLike
Vaguely reminding Elmer Fudd’s lines in “What’s Opera, Doc?”
“Nowth winds, bwow! South winds, bwow! Typhoons! Huwwicanes! SMOG!!! (…) Thunder! Wigtning! Stwike the wabbit!”
LikeLiked by 1 person