It was the Sabbath. And even the wind and the snow rested from their labours. (first lines) - Esther Kreitman

The festive season was over, and this was the time of year when an old folk song haunted the air in town and village an old familiar melody that evoked a smile here and a sigh there:
"Father, my Father, winter is drawing near,
And Father, O Father, a Jew should know no fear,
But look, O look, the snow is falling fast,
And hark, O hark, at the spiteful wintry blast.
See, there goes my roof, the water's coming through,
Hurry, Father, hurry, send succour to a poor old Jew!"

The small house stands on its own, completely isolated. The houses on either side have been reduced to high piles of burned, crumbling bricks, broken, rickety furniture, and the charred remains of enormous black beams. All kinds of tools and appliances are lying around amidst endless mountains of broken glass. Inside the house, destruction weaves its silent web, just like the cobwebs appearing between the flowers and the grasses, which have sprung up wild and free among the ruins. (first lines of "She is Not Blind")

Bill looked straight through the old man. His thoughts were very far away. ("Becoming a Tramp")