The thin and precarious crust of decency is all that separates any civilization, however impressive, from the hell of anarchy or systematic tyranny which lie in wait beneath the surface.
— Aldous Huxley
Love in a hut, with water and a crust, Is—Love, forgive us!—cinders, ashes, dust. Love in a palace is perhaps at last More grievous torment than a hermit's fast.
— John Keats
When we consider these simple facts, we see how absolutely futile are the attempts that have been made to draw a parallel between the story told by so much of the crust of the earth as is known to us and the story which Milton tells.