midnight
He only knows it who sits in the bosom of the world and receives all its pangs in His own heart . The sky is dumb , the stars are mute , the night is still , and in the midst of it all that one sleepless cry ! We give these sufferings names , bad or good , according to the classifications of the books , but this agony which is welling up from a torn heart , pouring into the fathomless dark , has it any name ? When in that midnight , standing under the silent stars , I looked upon that figure , my mind was struck with awe , and I said to myself : `` Who am Ito judge her ? '' O life , O death , O God of the infinite existence , I bow my head in silence to the mystery which is in you . Once I thought I should turn back . But I could not .