E. B. White – Writings from The New Yorker 1927-1976 (1950)

When we read the word “dismal” in the Times, we knew that the era of pure science was drawing to a close and the day of philosophical science was at hand. … There are, of course, no evil days in nature, no dies mali, and the forecast plainly showed that the weatherman had been spending his time indoors. To the intimates of rain, no day is dismal, and a dull sky is as plausible as any other. … No one can write knowingly of weather who walks bent over on wet days.

“Dismal?”

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