“When had my sister's words become so barbed and poisoned? Grief had sharpened her tongue to a fine point.” — Connilyn Cossette Copy Share Image
“And now this mofiient also had come and gone. The dark- red sun still hung, round as a ball, above the blue snowdrifts on the skyline, and the snowy plain greedily sucked in its juicy pineapple light, when the sleigh… — Boris Pasternak Copy Share Image
