Long afterward, many would remember those two days in the first week of October with vividness and anguish. — Arthur Hailey Copy Share Image
“Wild geese fly south, creaking like anguished hinges; along the riverbank the candles of the sumacs burn dull red. It's the first week of October. Season of woolen garments taken out of mothballs; of nocturnal mists and dew and slippery… — Margaret Atwood Copy Share Image
