One of my favorite passages from The Hours by Michael Cunningham:
"We live our lives, do whatever we do, and then we sleep—it's as simple and ordinary as that. . . There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) knows these hours will inevitably be followed by others, for darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning: we hope, more than anything, for more."