"It was a bad one, the Winter of 1933. Wading home that night through flames of snow, my toes burning, my ears on fire, the snow swirling around me like a flock of angry nuns, I stopped dead in my tracks. The time had come to take stock. Fair weather or foul, certain forces in the world were at work trying to destroy me."

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Source : John Fante (2013). “1933 Was A Bad Year”, p.1, Canongate Books

John Fante

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