October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived cold as frozen iron with hard frosts every morning and icy drafts that bit at exposed hands and faces.
J.K. Rowling
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And tears came before he could stop them boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face and what was the point in wiping them off Or pretending He let them fall.
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I think that perhaps if I had had to slow down the ideas so that I could capture them on paper I might have stifled some of them.
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