
S. Reynolds Hole was an English author and clergyman, best known for his contributions to gardening literature and his role in the Victorian gardening movement. Born in 1819, Hole's early life was marked by a deep appreciation for nature, which later influenced his writing. He served as a vicar and was actively involved in various horticultural societies, which allowed him to blend his pastoral duties with his passion for gardening. His most notable work, "The Book of the Garden," published in two volumes, provided practical advice and insights into the art of gardening, making it a significant resource for both amateur and professional gardeners of his time. In addition to his gardening texts, Hole was also a prolific writer of essays and articles, contributing to various periodicals and journals. His writings often reflected his belief in the restorative power of nature and the importance of cultivating a connection with the earth. Hole's influence extended beyond his publications; he was instrumental in promoting the idea of gardening as a moral and spiritual pursuit. His legacy endures through his writings, which continue to inspire gardeners and nature enthusiasts, highlighting the enduring relationship between humanity and the natural world.
“Mathematics is a terrible calling. It’s as merciless as gravity. It swallows the soul. There’s a point near a black hole called the last stable orbit. Once you drop below that radius, no force in the universe can stop you falling all the way in. That’s what happened to your mother – she swam too close to theory, fell below the last stable orbit.””
“Where's Malfour?" the fire Elemental asks, looking around the street. "Oh, don't worry. He'll be back in ..." There's only a hint of a scream before Malfour comes crashing out of the sky. He lands right inside the cones that I’d set up, and right on top of his would-be bank-robbing accomplice. A huge plume of concrete, dust, and debris flies twenty-feet into the air, hitting a nearby traffic light and sending it into a nearby building. Malfour's created a pretty large crater, and both of the metas are out cold. "...no time flat,” I finish. There’s no response from the hole, and certainly not a laugh. “Dammit! I thought I had that timed out perfectly! 'He'll be back in no time flat.' Get it? He's huge, and he landed on you. Now you’re squished flat ... like a pancake? Man, that would have been so perfect. Ugh. That's really going to bother me all night, guys. Thanks a lot," I say into the pit.””
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