I remember reading an essay that I loved, but I can’t recall what it was called or who the author was.
It deals with staying up during the night. How the world is different and strange. I remember one line in particular saying that, without insomniacs and policemen on their beats, there would be nobody to weave the world of the previous day into the new day, and that everything might just disappear, or something.
I did some digging around, and I remembered two other essays in the book. “The Death of the Moth” by Virginia Woolf, and “Wordsworth in the Tropics” by Aldous Huxley.
The essay I was looking for is entitled “Endure the Night,” and was written by Loren Eiseley. Google the essay, you get exactly two hits. One to a library site, one to an eBay auction. Both of them are on the book of essays, published in the 1960s. Pretty darn obscure.
Thanks for your help, and if you can track down the essay, read it! (Actually, the whole collection is really good.)