"Christine (casually, avoiding her eyes): Yes. He's much better now. He'll soon be going the rounds to his patients again, he hopes. (as if anxious to change the subject, looking at the flowers she carries) I've been to the greenhouse to pick these. I felt our tomb needed a little brightening. (She nods scornfully toward the house.) Each time I come back after being away it appears more like a sepulchre! The "whited" one of the Bible--pagan temple front stuck like a mask on Puritan gray ugliness! It was just like old Abe Mannon to build such a monstrosity--as a temple for his hatred. (then with a little mocking laugh) Forgive me, Vinnie. I forgot you liked it. And you ought to. It suits your temperament."
Eugene O'Neill. "Mourning becomes Electra". Part I - Homecoming. Act I.
Although it might be unfair to tone images of wintering Almaty black&white, my excuse is that I recently listened a lot to "Pretty in Black" by The Raveonettes, which has evolved as a complementary soundtrack for the cold season here.
.... at least for me.
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