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”

I rise and turn back…. leaving the rest of the world to coyotes who are now running across the mountain together, howling and yipping behind me, calling for the frozen night to come. – Craig Childs, The Animal Dialogues: Uncommon Encounters in the Wild