I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.

The day unravels what the night has woven.

Some nights are like honey—and some like wine—and some like wormwood.

The moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to.

What hath night to do with sleep?

To know the abyss of the darkness and not to fear it, to entrust oneself to it and whatever may arise from it—what greater gift?

After each night we are emptier: our mysteries and our griefs have leaked away into our dreams.