Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his sandal shoon. – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Hyperion

How magnificent the city is by the June moonlight! — after the streets are empty and silent. – Byron Caldwell Smith, letter to Kate Stephens

Sometimes I lie awake at night, and I ask, “Where have I gone wrong?” Then a voice says to me, “This is going to take more than one night.” – Charles M. Schulz