Every sleepy boy and girl in every bed around the world can hear the stars up in the sky whispering a lullaby. – Mary Chapin Carpenter

Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree. РAntoine de Saint-Exup̩ry

To seek the breast of darkness and be suckled by the night. – Paul Simon, “A Poem on the Underground Wall”