There were a million small towns like this all over the world. Each as dark, as lonely, as removed, as full of shuddering and wonder. The reedy playing of minor-key violins was the small town’s music, with no light, but many shadows. Oh, the vast swelling loneliness of them. The secret damp ravines of them. Life was a horror lived in them at night, when at all sides sanity, marriage, children, happiness, were threatened by an ogre called Death.
Dandelion Wine, Ray Bradbury, 1957