Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.
By you, I am forever undone.
There you are,' Cardan says as I take my place beside him. 'How has the night been going for you? Mine has been full of dull conversation about how my head is going to find itself on a spike.'
Never is like Forever.
How did it get so late so soon? It's night before its afternoon. December is here before its June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.
Night falls. Or has fallen. Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon, like a black sun behind cloud cover. Like smoke from an unseen fire, a line of fire just below the horizon, brushfire or a burning city. Maybe night falls because it’s heavy, a thick curtain pulled up over the eyes. Wool blanket.
I do my best thinking at night when everyone else is sleeping. No interruptions. No noise. I like the feeling of being awake when no one else is.
Once I knew a little girl, Who wouldn’t go to bed, And in the morning always had A very sleepy head.
I love the silent hour of night, For blissful dreams may then arise, Revealing to my charmed sight What may not bless my waking eyes.
The bedtime story is a genius invention. A tiny gift of wonder before you fall asleep.
She closed her eyes, but she still could not sleep. So she began to sing a little song about the alphabet. She made it up as she went along.