The winter evening settles down With smell of steaks in passageways. Six o'clock. The burnt-out ends of smoky days. And now a… — Anonymous Copy Share Image
Never are voices so beautiful as on a winter's evening, when dusk almost hides the body, and they seem to issue from… — Virginia Woolf Copy Share Image
“I, who am perpetually making notes in the margin of my mind for some final statement, make this mark, waiting for some… — Virginia Woolf Copy Share Image
“And except on a certain kind of winter evening—six-thirty in the Seventies, say, already dark and bitter with a wind off the… — Joan Didion Copy Share Image
