When you see the light of the sun in the light of the moon, you have found the love that fills the universe.

From Alfred’s journal

The moon came up over the Hendersons' roof before the sun had finished going down, and for a few minutes both were in the sky at once, the moon pale and borrowing and not ashamed of it. I used to think the moon was a poor imitation, a cold coin, the sun's work badly copied. Switch sat on the fence rail with half a walnut and did not look up once, which is its own kind of answer. When you see the light of the sun in the light of the moon, you have found the love that fills the universe; I wrote that with my feet cold and the light going blue, and I am not sure yet whether I meant it about the sky. There is a woman on Dell Street who waters her late husband's roses every evening at six.