Authors:
  • The night crept on apace, the moon went down, the stars grew pale and dim, and morning, cold as they, slowly approached. Then, from behind a distant hill, the noble sun rose up, driving the mists in phantom shapes before it, and clearing the earth of their ghostly forms till darkness came again.

    Charles Dickens (1872). “A Cyclopedia of the Best Thoughts of Charles Dickens”, p.333