And all men do love sin, Will, oh how they love it, never doubt, in all shapes, sizes, colors & smells. The seal-barker, the laugh-shouter, half the time he's covering up. There are smiles & smiles learn to tell the dark variety from the light. “Sometimes the man who looks happiest in town, with the biggest smile, is the one carrying the biggest load of sin. It’s a long way back to sunset, a far way on to dawn, so you summon all the fool things of your life, the stupid lovely things done with people known so very well who are now so very dead – And wasn’t it true, had he read somewhere, more people in hospitals die at 3 A.M. The moon rolls by to look at you down there, with its idiot face. God, if you had strength to rouse up, you’d slaughter your half-dreams with buckshot! But no, you lie pinned to a deep well-bottom that’s burned dry. Sleep is a patch of death, but three in the morn, full wide-eyed staring, is living death! You dream with your eyes open. You’re the nearest to dead you’ll ever be save dying.
But three, now, Christ, three A.M.! Doctors say the body’s at low tide then. Five or six in the morning, there’s hope, for dawn’s just under the horizon.
“Oh God, midnight’s not bad, you wake and go back to sleep, one or two’s not bad, you toss but sleep again.
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