William Faulkner. "The Sound and the Fury"
It was still going around, and then the shapes began. Open the crib, Versh. They were going slow. Spread those empty sacks on the floor. They were going faster, almost fast enough. Now. Pick up his feet. They went on, smooth and bright. I could hear T.P. laughing. I went on with them, up the bright hill.
She took my hand and we ran through the bright rustling leaves. We ran up the steps and out of the bright cold, into the dark cold.
Then the dark began to go in smooth, bright shapes, like it always does, even when Caddy says that I have been asleep.
Caddy got the box and set it on the floor and opened it. It was full of stars. When I was still, they were still. When I moved, they glinted and sparkled. I hushed. Then I heard Caddy walking and began again.