“The weather, I thought, was gorgeous. The night was dark, but I could, nevertheless, distinguish the water, the trees, and anyone standing near me. The world was lit by stars, which were scattered without number over the whole sky. I don’t remember ever having seen so many stars. You literally could not have inserted a fingertip between them. There were big ones the size of a goose’s egg and little ones the size of a hemp-seed; they had all come out in the sky, to the last one, to celebrate Easter in holiday splendour, washed, fresh, and joyous, and all gently twinkled their rays. The sky was reflected in the river, and the stars bathed themselves in its depths and trembled on its ripples. The air was still and warm. Far away, in the impenetrable darkness on the other shore, burnt a few bright-red fires.”

The night before easter, Anton Chekhov.