A Crash (n.) is how capitalism rebalances its departments: over-production in consumer goods can only be balanced out by a major crash that shifts capital elsewhere.
A Crash (n.) is the price of every small assumption arriving at once.
A Crash (n.) is the moment everyone in it was doing something perfectly ordinary a second earlier.
A Crash (n.) is stopping more quickly than you can handle
Earthquake (n.) is a force that rages only in one corner of nature yet strikes with the strength of the whole world.
Earthquake (n.) is the one disaster with no escape: walls stop enemies, harbors stop storms, caves stop lightning and you can flee a plague, but the ground itself gapes.
The Earthquake (n.) gave Jung, in his first one, the archaic idea that the earth was the skin of a huge animal shaking itself like a horse — the Japanese salamander that carries the world.
An Earthquake (n.) is felt not as physics but as the skin of a gigantic animal heaving underfoot — so terror anthropomorphizes nature's passion, and the storm becomes an angry god.
Natural catastrophes (n.) intervene with consummate indifference, and that reversibility explains their profound fascination.
Nuclear winter (n.) would turn a first strike into slow suicide, killing the attacker along with the target.