I've been reading Arthur Conan Doyle's "The Complete Sherlock Holmes", in and among other stuff.... I founf the following at the beginning of "The Adventure Of The Golden Pince Nez", and was quite struck by it:
"It was a wild, tempestuous night, towards the close of November. ... Outside the wind howled down Baker Street, while the rain beat fiercely against the windows. It was strange there, in the very depths of the town, with ten miles of man's handiwork on every side of us, to feel the iron grip of Nature, and to be conscious that to the huge elemental forces all London was no more than the molehills that dot the fields/"
Great stuff... I always like things that remind us that all of Man's handiwork are inconsequential to the huge elemental forces.
Or as a later wordsmith put it:
The image is a real oldie, at least 15 years back. I'm sure it has been posted here several times. But hey, call it a throwback!