A cloud is made of billows upon billows upon billows that look like clouds. As you come closer to a cloud you don&#39;t get something smooth, but irregularities at a smaller scale.

Every word of it was for him. Against his sin, foul and secret, the whole wrath of God was aimed. The preacher's knife had probed deeply into his diseased conscience and he felt now that his soul was festering in sin.

I do not know whether it ought to be so, but certainly silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way.  Wickedness is always wickedness, but folly is not always folly.

Written By Jane Austen

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