On Sunday night I was reading Dracula, by Bram Stoker, before going to bed and I came across these lines:
“No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and how dear to his heart and eye the morning can be. When the sun grew so high this morning that it struck the top of the great gateway opposite my window, the high spot which it touched seemed to be as if the dove from the ark had lighted there. My fear fell from me as if it had been a vaporous garment which dissolved in the warmth.”
On my walk the next morning I watched the sunrise and thought of poor Jonathan Harker trapped inside Dracula’s castle.