" She wants suddenly to make it somewhere, this surcharged darkness is all-earth. She wants to be established on the surface of this. She wants to talk in a banal way to a banal person. Tomorrow will go on like yesterday and there will be no break in continuity, no ripple on the surface to show the Norridges of this world, where they have been. She wishes, for a moment, she could stabilize it, look forward to some simple, silly thing, an excursion to the Rialto or some hunt through Florentine byways, for a shop to mend her earrings. She wants to see herself, silly as all that, with earrings, not disembodied, with silver before her and inchoate rock at her back. "

― H.D. , Nights: Novel