Most everybody's asleep in Grover's Corners. There are a few lights on: Shorty Hawkins, down at the depot, has just watched the Albany train go by. And at the livery stable somebody's setting up late and talking. -- Yes, it's clearing up. There are the stars - doing their old, old crisscross journeys in the sky. Scholars haven't settled the matter yet, but they seem to think there are no living beings up there. Just chalk... or fire. Only this one is straining away, straining away all the time to make something of itself. The strain's so bad
that every sixteen hours everybody lies down and gets a rest.
Hm... Eleven o'clock in Grover's Corners. -- You get a good rest,
too. Good night.
posted by orthogonality
on Sep 18, 2006 -