Jack Smith

“Darkness rests upon Tom-all-alone’s. Dilating and dilating since the sun went down last night, it has gradually swelled until it fills every void in the place. For a time there were some dungeon lights burning, as the lamp of Life burns in Tom-all-alone’s, heavily, heavily, in the nauseous air, and winking – as that lamp, too, winks in Tom-all-alone’s – at many horrible things. But they were blotted out. The moon has eyes Tom with a dull cold stare, as admitting some puny emulation of herself in his desert region unfit for life and blasted by volcanic fires; but she has passed on, and is gone. The blackest nightmare in the infernal stables grazes on Tom-all-alone’s, and Tom is fast asleep.”
― Charles Dickens, Bleak House