“Outside the window, there slides past that unimaginable and
deserted vastness where night is coming on… across, it would seem, half a
continent, where live only bears and shooting stars and the wolves who lap
congealing ice from water that holds within it the entire sky.
All white with
snow as if under dustsheets, as if laid away eternally as soon as brought back
from the shop, never to be used or touched.“