Upon the dark mountain lift ye up a banner, exalt the voice, lift up the hand, and let the rulers go into the gates.

Haulbowline head and Mizzen-mast hill were at my elbow, the hill bare and dark, the head bound with cliffs forty or fifty feet high and fringed with great masses of fallen rock.

And now I'd come to Toksan, a town which isn't the prettiest, and it's pouring so hard I'm sheltering under a shop's awning, and that tent in my backpack doesn't seem so useful now.