two in the morning
Many earnest young writers with a flow of adjectives and a passion for detail have attempted to describe the quiet of a great city at night , when a few million people within it are sleeping , or ought to be . They work in the clang of a distant owl car , and the roar of an occasional `` L '' train , and the hollow echo of the footsteps of the late passer-by . They go elaborately into description , and are strong on the brooding hush , but the thing has never been done satisfactorily . Gertie , sitting on the front stoop at two in the morning , with her orange in one hand and the sardine can in the other , put it this way : `` If I was to hear a cricket chirp now , I 'd screech . This is n't really quiet . It 's like waiting for a cannon cracker to go off just before the fuse is burned down . The bang is n't there yet , but you hear it a hundred times in your mind before it happens . ''