It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on. Carl Sandburg, Fog
The fog came pouring in at every chink and keyhole, and was so dense without, that although the court was of the narrowest, the houses opposite were mere phantoms. To see the dingy cloud come drooping down, obscuring everything, one might have thought that Nature lived hard by, and was brewing on a large scale. Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
And the fog lay on the river,
Like a ghost, that goes at sunrise Henry W. Longfellow, The Song of Hiawatha
The fog-horn is blaring. Fog squeezes into the house and lurks in the corners of the rooms. Emily Carr
It was a foggy day in London, and the fog was heavy and dark. Animate London, with smarting eyes and irritated lungs, was blinking, wheezing, and choking; inanimate London was a sooty spectre, divided in purpose between being visible and invisible, and so being wholly neither. Gaslights flared in the shops with a haggard and unblest air, as knowing themselves to be night- creatures that had no business abroad under the sun; while the sun itself when it was for a few moments dimly indicated through circling eddies of fog, showed as if it had gone out and were collapsing flat and cold. Even in the surrounding country it was a foggy day, but there the fog was grey, whereas in London it was, at about the boundary line, dark yellow, and a little within it brown, and then browner, and then browner, until at the heart of the City — which call Saint Mary Axe — it was rusty-black. From any point of the high ridge of land northward, it might have been discerned that the loftiest buildings made an occasional struggle to get their heads above the foggy sea, and especially that the great dome of Saint Paul's seemed to die hard; but this was not perceivable in the streets at their feet, where the whole metropolis was a heap of vapour charged with muffled sound of wheels, and enfolding a gigantic catarrh. Charles Dickens, Our Mutual Friend
I have come to think of fog as a neutral thing. It's like a blank canvas — it becomes what we choose to shape and color it with: projected images, memories, imaginations, and even warm-bodied emotional states. Craig Werth
Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping, and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city…Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a balloon, and hanging in the misty clouds.
-- Charles Dickens, Bleak House, 1853
...the sullen bay rubbed with thumbs of fog. E. Annie Proulx, The Shipping News
In that low and marshy spot, the fog filled every nook and corner with a thick dense cloud. Every object was obscure at one or two yards' distance. The warning lights and fires upon the river were powerless beneath this pall, and, but for a raw and piercing chillness in the air, and now and then the cry of some bewildered boatman as he rested on his oars and tried to make out where he was, the river itself might have been miles away. Charles Dickens, The Old Curiosity Shop
The incoming fog, moreover, is sinking as the earth chills, and I can new see a wisp of vapor between me and the pines across the road. The light grows silvery; the vapor has reached the western heavens, and is dimming and veiling over the great shield of the sun. A kind of hush seems to follow. Henry Beston, Northern Farm
Today's a foggy foggy day,
it's dreary and it's weird,
the sun is not in evidence,
the sky has disappeared. Jack Prelutsky, A Pizza the Size of the Sun
Clouds too! And a mist upon the hollow! Not a dull fog that hides it, but a light airy gauze-like mist, which in our eyes of modest admiration gives a new charm to the beauties it is spread before: as real gauze has done ere now, and would again, so please you, though we were the Pope. Yoho! Charles Dickens, Stage Coach
When I step out before breakfast this morning, snow fog is adding its silvering to the air. Edwin Way Teale, A Walk Through The Year
A fog that won't burn away drifts and flows across my field of vision. When you see fog move across a backdrop of deep pines, you don't see the fog itself but streaks and tatters of clearness through a pervading obscurity. Anne Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
Fog against the window like milk. E. Annie Proulx, The Shipping News
The day promised to be fair, though, at that early hour, a heavy mist lay along the earth, and settled, in minute globules, on the folds of my clothes, so that I looked precisely as if touched with a hoar-frost. Nathaniel Hawthorne, Mosses from an Old Manse
Fog everywhere. Fog up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls deified among the tiers of shipping and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city. Fog on the Essex marshes, fog on the Kentish heights. Fog creeping into the cabooses of collier-brigs; fog lying out on the yards and hovering in the rigging of great ships; fog drooping on the gunwales of barges and small boats. Fog in the eyes and throats of ancient Greenwich pensioners, wheezing by the firesides of their wards; fog in the stem and bowl of the afternoon pipe of the wrathful skipper, down in his close cabin; fog cruelly pinching the toes and fingers of his shivering little 'prentice boy on deck. Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a balloon and hanging in the misty clouds. Charles Dickens, Bleak House
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