We grizzle every day. I see no need of it. Whilst we converse with what is above us, we do not grow old, but grow young.
Its tall chimneys throw up black smoke, impregnating everything with soot, and the miners' faces as they traveled the streets were also imbued with that ancient melancholy of smoke, unifying everything with its grayish monotones, a perfect coupling with the gray mountain days.