A very strange stranger it must be, who does not see charms in the immediate environs of Lyme, to make him wish to know it better.
— Jane Austen, Persuasion
It was November–the month of crimson sunsets, parting birds, deep, sad hymns of the sea, passionate wind-songs in the pines. Anne roamed through the pineland alleys in the park and, as she said, let that great sweeping wind blow the fogs out of her soul.
– L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables