“The world is a giant eye, staring back at the stars. When it tires, it closes its lids--just as I am doing now--and gives way to dreams, which is why the night is so much more mysterious than the day.”
“When the star dies, Its eye closes; tired of watching, It flies back to its first bright dream.”
“Why is this,” she asked, again in that dreamy tone, “so much more real than that? One’s night, one’s day, why is this so much more real? That I can’t forget the things from the day, and I can’t remember the things from the night?”
“I was so tired but I wouldn’t let my eyes close because I was afraid he wouldn’t be there when I woke up, that I just dreamed him.”
“A woman is more beautiful than the world in which I live; and so I close my eyes. ”
“Am I such a bad person for dreaming of a world that ends when I do? I don't mean the world ending with respect to me, but every set of eyes closing with mine.”