Florence could not read, or rest a moment. She paced her own room, opened the door and paced the staircase-gallery outside…[S]he… paced the staircase-gallery outside, looked out of the window on the night, listened to the wind blowing and the rain falling, sat down and watched the faces in the fire, got up and watched the moon flying like a storm-driven ship through the sea of clouds.  ~Charles Dickens, Dombey and SonTPV reprinted version