Summer died upon the hills. There was a hue, barely guessed, upon the foliage, of red rust. The streets at night were filled with sad lispings: all through the night, upon his porch, as in a coma, he heard the strange noise of autumn. And all the people who had given the town its light thronging gaiety were vanished strangely overnight. They had gone back into the vast South again.
(Thomas Wofle: Look Homeward, Angel)
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"But now in Christ Jesus you who were once far off have become near in the blood of Christ."
Ephesians 2:13
