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