“I would venture to guess that Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.” ― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own

 “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, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

"There is something terribly morbid in the modern sympathy with pain.  One should sympathise with the colour, the beauty, the joy of life.  The less said about life's sores the better."
••Oscar Wilde