Though the day be bright, my room, its windows never facing directly the sun, seemed a perpetually dark and somber cavern of coldest night. A place so still that time itself might like to skip it over, like a train weary hobo who finds not the helpful chalk-marks at some strangers door, and so sensing little prospect of gain gives it a miss and heads for more homely houses.

To a place more homely and more open to the face of God than my house was I also tempted to go this morning. Tempted by the soft hued and gauzy garments that spring clothes herself in, and by her voice, which to my ears resembles not that of a young girl, as the Greeks may describe her, but of an older woman, more matronly, more apt to cook something nice and place it on your window sil.

This voice called me out of my dark cave to stare blinking at a new season's magnificent cast of light, and then to fall senseless, overwhelmed by the heady joys of flowering abundance, under the eaves of a patient pine. There I lay curled in happy somnolence for the better part of the day, waking on and off to read from Moby Dick and then, much later, to go to the store and buy Ninja Gaiden for my xbox.

Moby Dick is so frickin good! And it's fun to write like Melville! Check this passage out:

"... in what eternal, unstirring paralysis, and deadly, hopeless trance, yet lies antique Adam who died sixty round centuries ago; how is it that we still refuse to be comforted for those who we nevertheless maintain are dwelling in unspeakable bliss; why all the living so strive to hush all the dead; wherefore but the rumor of a knocking in a tomb will terrify a whole city. All these things are not without their meanings.

But faith, like a jackal, feeds among the tombs, and even from these dead doubts she gathers her most vital hope."

Wow! Why have I waited so long to read this?