There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything… - Michael Cunningham

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There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) know these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning; we hope, more than anything, for more.