The heavy rain beat down the tender branches of vine and jessamine, and trampled on them in its fury; and when the lightning gleamed, it showed the tearful leaves shivering and cowering together at the window, and tapping at it urgently, as if beseeching to be sheltered from the dismal night. – Charles Dickens, Martin Chuzzlewit, Chapter XLIII

The snow itself is lonely or, if you prefer, self-sufficient. There is no other time when the whole world seems composed of one thing and one thing only. – Joseph Wood Krutch

The sun lay like a friendly arm across her shoulder. – Margorie Kinnan Rawlings, South Moon Under