Stories of sorrow
In
times of grief, "the very sun and moon seem taken from us," writes Oscar Wilde.
He continues:
Outside, the day may be blue and gold,
but the light that creeps down through the thickly muffled glass of the small
iron-barred window beneath which one sits is grey and niggard. It is always
twilight in one's cell, as it is always twilight in one's heart.
Wilde
writes in a late-19th-century idiom, but his experience will be
recognizable to many people across the decades.