The day after Thanksgiving, in the wee hours of the morning, lighting a wood stove, I turn to The New York Times and find this incredible contrast that certainly defines our harrowing age:
A Picture of Our World
What can we say?
Contrasts in Our World
The Uncanny 
Rich people are always feasting while poor people are dying. Our harrowing age; our harrowing species, or just this harrowing planet?
PS:
Heraclitus: The universe is kindled and quenched in measure—