Photographer Unknown, (Impending Winter)
He walked more and more slowly, listening, hearing nothing; looking, seeing nothing. Soon he stopped, for he was not going any farther. Standing in the deep leaves beneath trees bare and practically dead in the catalepsy of impending winter, he knew that he did not want to be here. A great evil – no more to be named than, met, to be escaped – waited fairly close.
-James Gould Cozzens