Sometimes when the wind blew all day he would lie and smoke one cigarette after another and not say much of anything.

— Winter Wheat by Mildred Walker

She lifted her arms, she leaned back against the wind, her skirt dipped and flared, a lock blew wild.

— Main Street by Sinclair Lewis

We read to know we’re not alone. We read because we are alone. We read and we are not alone. We are not alone.

— The Storied Life of A. J. Fikry by Gabrielle Zevin