Night

 

Life is that, a light sliver ending in the Night. [...]

The sunsets in that African hell proved to be fabulous. They never missed. As tragic every time as a monumental murder of the sun! But the marvel was too great for one man alone. For a whole hour the sky paraded in great delirious spurts of scarlet from end to end; after that the green of the trees exploded and rose up in quivering trails to meet the first stars. Then the whole horizon turned gray again and then red, but this time a tired red that didn’t last long. That was the end. All the colors fell back down on the forest in tatters, like streamers after the hundredth performance. It happened every day at exactly six o’clock. Then the night set in with all its monsters and its thousands and thousands of croaking toads. [...]

Everything interesting takes place in the dark; there is no doubt about it. We know nothing of the true story of the men. [...]

In life you don’t rise up, you go down. She couldn’t anymore. She could not get down to where I was … There was too much night for her around me. [...]

 

Louis-Ferdinand Céline

Journey to the End of Night, 1932