He began to cry, not hysterically or screaming as people cry when concealed rage with tears, but with continuous sobs who has just discovered that he’s alone and will be for long. He cried because safety and reason seemed to have left the world. Loneliness was a reality, but in this situation madness was also remotely a possibility.
~ Stephen King
The world is tired, the year is old,
The faded leaves are glad to die…
~Sara Teasdale, “November”
October’s foliage yellows with his cold:
In rattling showers dark November’s rain,
From every stormy cloud, descends amain,
Till keen December’s snows close up the year again.
~John Ruskin, “The Months,” c.1834