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“Have you seen an evening sea at high tide, as snow is coming ? Stood on a cliff with that strange, slow light and the gulls that wheel, but do no call, as if they sense it too, and have you looked down to the sea, where the waves are ghostly-looking, with an Arctic blueness to them, and the cove is full of white, hissing water, and the foam scuds on beaches, and you can smell it -- the snow ?”
― Susan Fletcher