Sentence The Sixhundredandthirteenth 

Now, Little Levy Balquhidder knew plenty about Karma, and indeed, this Twelfthtide, as he played with Toots Teitlebaum and his new Teddy, Grump, he rather sensed that The Creator was watching him closely, a little too closely for comfort, perhaps even considering which of several options to choose; after all, the Moth-hole might be considered by some to be merely a Minor Misdemeanour in the Grand Scheme of Things, just a utilisation of an unintended consequence of Quantum Mechanics which, for goodness sake, didn't actually enable anyone to go anywhere, it wasn't on a par with 'Beam me up, Scotty,' for it was simply an aid, a factitious rendering which made several people believe
themselves to be very happy, without actually materially changing anything at all; "if you want to compare it with something," said Little Levy to Toots, who didn't have the faintest idea what he was saying nor what he meant, "it's more akin to Rowland Hill's Penny Post, than Albert Einstein's Theory of General Relativity, as they will come to appreciate, but I don't want them to be too disappointed," for he well knew how disappointment can etiolate, by tipping some people into a depression from which there is no easy way out; "yes," he said, thrusting Grump towards Toots, which made her chortle so, "John Bunyan was never so apt as when he named that bottomless bog into which Christian sinks under the weight of his own sins and sense of guilt, The Slough of Despond."