“For twenty years it seemed to me that I had been taking part in a game, and that one day, at the stroke of midnight, I would return to the land of shadows. ...In a little while, the hands would be pointing to midnight; they would point to midnight tomorrow and the next day, and I would still be here.”

“She called and said she had to cancel tomorrow. “Cancel tomorrow!” I shrieked. “Does that make today the last day, or at midnight tonight will the world just skip over to the day after tomorrow? But wouldn’t that still make it tomorrow?”

“The sun would still rise, the seasons would still come, life would continue. I was thankful to have been a part of it; I would take the memories and savor them for the life ahead. I had been given the components that would comprise the fate of my destiny; they had aged into my soul so that part of the past would always remain with me. They would be there for me to draw strength from on days in my future when death would seem a triumph and life too hard to live any more.”

“Night's winged horsesNo one can outpaceBut midnight is no momentMidnight is a place.Meet me at Midnight,Among the Queen Anne's LaceMidnight is not a moment,Midnight is a place—When, when shall I meet youWhen shall I see your faceFor I am living in time at presentBut you are living in space.Time is only a cornerAge is only a foldA year is merely a pennySpent from a century's gold.So meet me, meet me at midnight(With sixty seconds' grace)Midnight is not a moment;Midnight is a place.”

“I would traverse not once more, but often the hell of my inner being. One day I would be a better hand at the game. One day I would learn how to laugh. Pablo was waiting for me, and Mozart too.”

“Time had not faded my memories (as I had prayed to God it might), nor had it healed my wounds as it is said always to do. I began each day with the hope that the next day would be better, my recollections a little less pointed, but I would awake to the same pain, as if a black lamp were burning eternally inside me, radiating darkness.”