You may imagine how I felt when I heard this abominable old rogue addressing another in the very same words of flattery as he had used to me. I think… - Robert Louis Stevenson

In winter I get up at night,
and dress by yellow candlelight,
In summer, quite the other day,
I have to go to bed by day

Anyone can carry his burden, however heavy, until nightfall. Anyone can do his work, however hard, for one day. Anyone can live sweetly, patiently, lovingly, purely, until the sun goes down. And this is all that life really means.

And yet even while I was exulting in my solitude I became aware of a strange lack. I wished a companion to lie near me in the starlight, silent and not moving, but ever within touch. For there is a fellowship more quiet even than solitude, and which, rightly understood, is solitude made perfect.