“When daylight is here i dream of the night,The stars of a country sky that shine so bright.A night sky without clouds, for the moon to hide under,Revealing every twinkle and every beam, of the Milky Way's wonder.I grow sad in the morning, And i pay the day no mind.Every time i see the light coming, I know the sunset's not far behind.”

“once i was told to not be sad, because behind every dark cloud there is a bright sky...what they do not seem to know is that past that bright sky is an endless darkness.”

“I can't really remember the days. The light of the sun blurred and annihilated all color. But the nights, I remember them. The blue was more distant than the sky, beyond all depths, covering the bounds of the world. The sky, for me, was the stretch of pure brilliance crossing the blue, that cold coalescence beyond all color. Sometimes, it was in Vinh Long, when my mother was sad she'd order the gig and we'd drive out into the country to see the nighta s it was in the dry season. I had that good fortune- those nights, that mother. The light fell from the sky in cataracts of pure transparency, in torrents of silence and immobility. The air was blue, you could hold it in your hand. Blue. The sky was the continual throbbing of the brilliance of the light. The night lit up everything, all the country on either bank of the river as far as the eye could reach. Every night was different, each one had a name as long as it lasted. Their sound was that of the dogs, the country dogs baying at mystery. They answered on another from village to village, until the time and space of the night were utterly consumed.”

“Where are the stars on this dark, dark, night?Where is there tiny twinkling light?Where is the music?Where is the song?Where are the colors?Something is wrong.Sometimes stars hide in the clouds,and their light seems far away.Sometimes voices are hushed and still,and the rainbow fades to gray.Sometimes the world is topsy-turvy,and nobody really knows why;Sometimes sad things happen,and even grown-ups cry.But always, my child, always,you are safe here in my arms.The world may be topsy-turvy,but I will shelter you from harm.Always the stars are twinkling,even when clouds hide their light.I promise you voices will sing again,and colors will again shine bright.I promise there is always tomorrowfor starlight and rainbows and song;My love will always surround youunchanged, unbroken, and strong.”

“Imagine something. Something that fits in the dark. Say the dark is the sky at night. Imagine something in it.”“A star?”“Yes.”“I can’t. I can’t see it.”“Okay. Don’t try to see it. Try to be it. Would you like to know what it’s like to be one? Be a star?”“A movie star?”“No, a star star. In the sky. Keep your eyes closed, think about what it feels like to be one.” He moved over to her and kissed her shoulder. “Imagine yourself in that dark, all alone in the sky at night. Nobody is around you. You are by yourself, just shining there. You know how a star is supposed to twinkle? We say twinkle because that is how it looks, but when a star feels itself, it’s not a twinkle, it’s more like a throb. Star throbs. Over and over and over. Like this. Stars just throb and throb and throb and sometimes, when they can’t throb anymore, when they can’t hold it anymore, they fall out of the sky.”

“The sun shine comes, you see the shine you see the color, when night comes you the stars you see the dark the blooming moon you choose a star you follow the star it comes in your dreams you follow stars once a light bug dies you see a new star you follow the star your dreams come true.”