The Reader - Pg 18

Through the long hours of the night you have the church clock for company and the rumble of the occasional passing car that throws its headlights across the walls and ceiling. These are hours without sleep, which is not to say that they're sleepless, because on the contrary, they're not about lack of anything, they're rich and full. Desires, memories, fears, passions, form labyrinths in which we lose and find and then lose ourselves again. They are hours when anything is possible, good or bad.