“The cotton was open and spilling into the fields; the very air smelled of it. In field after field as he passed… — William Faulkner Copy Share Image
“The dark swallowed him, but his dragging footsteps could be heard a long time after he had gone, footsteps along the road;… — John Steinbeck Copy Share Image
“Dinner was wonderful. There was a joint of beef, with roast potatoes, golden-crisp on the outside and soft and white inside, buttered… — Neil Gaiman Copy Share Image
