The night was clear and frosty, all ebony of shadow and silver of snowy slope; big stars were shining over the silent fields; here and there the dark pointed firs stood up with snow powdering their branches and the wind whistling through them. – L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables
In passing, we should note this curious mark of our own age: the only absolute allowed is the absolute insistence that there is no absolute. – Francis Schaeffer
