midnight
The old clock in the hall -- that had sat there since long before he , himself , could remember -- struck ten , and then eleven , and then , to his disgust , even twelve . At ten he had taken another toddy to put himself to sleep . There is only one excuse for drunkenness , and that is sleeplessness . If there is a hell for the intellectual it is not of fire , as for commoner mortals , but of sleeplessness -- the wild staring eyes of an eternity of sleeplessness following an eon of that midnight mental anguish which comes with the birth of thoughts . But still he slept not , and so at ten he had taken another toddy -- and still another , and as he felt its life and vigor to the ends of his fingers , he quaffed his fourth one ; then he smiled and said : `` And now I do n't care if I never go to sleep ! '' He arose and dressed . He tried to recite one of his favorite poems , and it angered him that his tongue seemed thick .