The fog,
sinking into the valley, had reached southward, swallowing up ranch
after ranch, until it had blotted out the town of St. Helena, nine miles away. The dust in the road was laid; trees were adrip with moisture; birds sat silent in their coverts; the morning light was wan and ghastly, with neither color nor fire.
Ambrose Bierce
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Midnight 'til one belongs to the dead
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