Beth

“November--with uncanny witchery in its changed trees. With murky red sunsets flaming in smoky crimson behind the westering hills. With dear days when the austere woods were beautiful and gracious in a dignified serenity of folded hands and closed eyes--days full of a fine, pale sunshine that sifted through the late, leafless gold of the juniper-trees and glimmered among the grey beeches, lighting up evergreen banks of moss and washing the colonnades of the pines. Days with a high-sprung sky of flawless turquoise. Days when an exquisite melancholy seemed to hang over the landscape and dream about the lake. But days, too, of the wild blackness of great autumn storms, followed by dank, wet, streaming nights when there was witch-laughter in the pines and fitful moans among the mainland trees. What cared they? Old Tom had built his roof well, and his chimney drew.”
― L.M. Montgomery

“Crook your finger;
they’ll come closer.
Pull the covers tighter to your chin;
in beside you they’ll creep.”
― Emmanuelle de Maupassant, Cautionary Tales: darkly delicious imaginings inspired by ancient folklore

“Much later, Alice would wonder what might have happened if she had gone to bed when she was supposed to.”
― Django Wexler, The Forbidden Library

“The house was very quiet, and the fog—we are in November now—pressed against the windows like an excluded ghost.”
― E.M. Forster, Howards End