American Culture · American Literature · Americana · Anthology · Collection · Excerpt · Paraphrase · Quote · Short Stories · Southern Gothic

Truman Capote

It snowed all week. Wheels and footsteps moved soundlessly on the street, as if the business of living continued secretly behind a pale but impenetrable curtain. In the falling quiet there was no sky or earth, only snow lifting in the wind, frosting the window glass, chilling the rooms, deadening and hushing the city. At… Continue reading Truman Capote

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