I believe the servants thought I walked in my sleep, but it was not so, for I always knew what I was about well enough.

I do not remember whether this began after that dreadful night when I woke in the barn, but I do think the enjoyment it gave me was rooted in the starry loneliness in which I had then found myself.

I wonder if I can explain my feelings.

The pleasure arose from a sort of sense of protected danger.

On that memorable night, I had been as it were naked to all the silence, alone in the vast universe, which kept looking at me full of something it knew but would not speak.