Sparks: ‘Mind-bogglingly crazy’: climate experts alarmed by deadly spring heatwaves searing Europe

That which you build higher to keep the heat out is precisely what traps it within, and so the master who yields to the season finds the coolness beneath the stone.

One observes a variation in the seasonal range, a slight but persistent shift in the mean temperature, with consequences for habitability far exceeding those produced by any predator or disease.

These temperature records, when plotted against the established series from my own century, show a deviation so far beyond the probable error as to demand a new catalogue of causes.

A true consilience would see this same pattern of violent aberration explaining not only the heat but also the crop failures, the migrations, and the political unrest that follow in its wake.

This heat is a silent landlord, collecting its rent in the sweat of the bricklayer and the last breath of the old woman in her unventilated room.

Men have become the tools of their tools, building a world so complex it now diligently produces its own unlivable weather.

The madman who calls the spring heat 'progress' has torn down the fence of seasons without ever asking why it was built.

Our predictive engines, fed with the wrong variables of endless consumption, now compute a future whose logical sequence is a series of intolerable maxima.

The weather, like a particularly ill-mannered guest, has arrived several months early and brought with it a most uncivil number of fatalities.

A new tyranny of the atmosphere now binds the continent more thoroughly than any colonial power, and your declarations of independence are written on melting parchment.

It is evidently the best of all possible worlds, where we have so perfectly arranged our affairs that the very air conspires to punish us for it.

Draw the isothermal line from the deforested basin to the overheated capital, and you will trace the precise geography of our own folly.

This heat asks no man for his title deed before it takes his life, proving nature itself more just than the laws we write.

Observe the factory owner who profits from the coal, the same man whose infant now gasps in the nursery under the heat his profits purchased.

Everyone talks about the weather, and now, by God, it's started talking back - and it ain't using the language of the drawing room.

Count the deaths in May, map them against the neighborhoods without shade trees, and you will have your ledger for this silent, statistical violence.