There's a wind tonight. I hate all wind now. The only good thing about wind is that it can blow away fog. I hate fog worse than anything.

In her lonely old age, in the catalog for an art exhibit, Dorothy Parker wrote one of the saddest passages I've ever read:

I am always a little sad when I see a John Koch painting. It is nothing more than a bit of nostalgia that makes my heart beat slower -- nostalgia for those rooms of lovely lights and lovelier shadows and loveliest people. And I really have no room for the sweet, soft feeling. Nor am I honest, perhaps, in referring to it. For it is the sort of nostalgia that is only a dreamy longing for some places where you never were.

And, I never will be there. There is no such hour on the present clock as 6:30, New York time. Yet, as only New Yorkers know, if you can get through the twilight, you'll live through the night.