Having run out of ideas for an interesting blog filled with tasty morsels, I've decided to give any and all lucky profile-viewers a taste of one of my favourite passages from one of my favourite authors. You may question, why post a new blog if you have nothing new to say? No reason, just a passage I've been navel-gazing over for weeks when I am unable to sleep.

"Singleton stood at the door with his face to the light and his back to the darkness. And alone in the dim emptiness of the sleeping forecastle he appeared bigger, colossal, very old; old as Father Time himself, who should have come there into this place as quiet as a sepulchre to contemplate with patient eyes the short victory of sleep, the consoler. Yet he was only a child of time, a lonely relic of a devoured and forgotten generation. He stood, still strong, as ever unthinking; a ready man with a vast empty past and with no future, with his childlike impulses and his man's passions already dead within his tattooed breast. The men who could understand his silence were gone - those men who knew how to exist beyond the pale of life and within sight of eternity."

1000 jt points to anyone who can place the author.