Sleep has no place it can call its own.
Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!
Once again...welcome to my house. Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring.
We are all drifting reefwards now, and faith is our only anchor.
I want you to believe...to believe in things that you cannot.
Within, stood a tall old man, clean shaven save for a long white moustache, and clad in black from head to foot, without a single speck of colour about him anywhere.