Sunlight poured like molten gold across the sleeping landscape.[Footnote: Not precisely, of course. Trees didn't burst into flame, people didn't suddenly become very rich and extremely dead, and the seas didn't flash into steam. A better simile, in fact, would be "not like molten gold."]
Terry Pratchett, The Light Fantastic
This is the view from my window at eight this morning... watching the sunlight pour down the hill like syrup.
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