This is an excerpt from the short story, "Bright Eyes", collected in the volume Paingod and Other Delusions. Much of Ellison's nearly 50 years of work seems either out of print or not easy to find. It is worth the hunt.
"Feet without toes. Softly-padded feet, furred. Footsteps sounded gently, padding furry, down ink-chill corridors of the place. A place Bright Eyes had inhabited since before time had substance. Since before places had names. A dark place, a shadowed place, only a blot against the eternally nightened skies. No stars chip-ice twittered insanely against that night; for in truth the night was mad enough.
Night was a condition Bright Eyes understood. And he knew about day...
He knew about almost everything.
The worms. The moles. The trunks of dead trees. The whites of eggs. Music. And random sounds. The sound fish make in the deep. The flares of the sun...Clocks and what they do. Ice cream. Wax seals on parchment dedications. Grass and leaves. Metal and wood. Up and down. Here and most of there. Bright Eyes knew it all."
Following is a clip from the documentary. If he is not known to you, meet Harlan Ellison.