Best 1436 quotes in «sun quotes» category

I hate the lackadaisical ennui of a sun too preoccupied with itself to notice the infinite hours we spend in its presence. The sun is an arrogant thing, always leaving the world behind when it tires of us. The moon is a loyal companion. It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do. Every day it’s a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light. The moon understands what it means to be human. Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by imperfections.

I have looked at the sun. It is so shinny, so hot. Attracted me but made me blind. Burned me. I went to the shadow. Under a tree. I could see clearly. I cooled down.

I hear you in the morning sun.

I keep holding up the mirror of the sun, so you can see the stunning reflections of everything you’re becom- ing.

I knew that Cooper was my sun, but I was his sun too. I didn’t need to orbit him, and he didn’t need to orbit me. We were a constellation, two stars connected as we moved through the heavens together, holding each other close with our own gravity.

I know your eyes in the morning sun I feel you touch me in the pouring rain And the moment that you wander far from me I wanna feel you in my arms again

i let myself know that my life doesn't have to be over just because theirs are & i went ahead & painted the sun back into my sky. I am allowed to live my life.

i like your embraces because the vertigo smells like the sun.

I look into your heart And burdening past Like sweet sunshine Reflected on the morning drops Of dew

I love the beach, everything except the fucking sand, the fucking sun, and the fucking water

I'm afraid our sun is nothing like whatever defined.

Images of broken light dance behind my eyelids. How could this giant lamp compare to the sun? Everything is wrong here. Shattered. Broken. Like the light. Like me. I never thought about how important the sky was until I didn’t have one. I am surrounded by walls. I have just replaced one box for another.

I miss the thrill of your self-destructive heart that melts in the sun like chocolate, bittersweet and incandescent.

i'm glad to be alive in a world where his gently awakening eyes nourish the morning sun.

I’m in no hurry. What for? The sun and moon aren’t in a hurry: they’re right. Hurrying is believing people can get past their legs, Or that, jumping, they can land past their shadow. No; I don’t know how to hurry.

I’m in no hurry: the sun and the moon aren’t, either. Nobody goes faster than the legs they have. If where I want to go is far away, I’m not there in an instant. (6/20/1919)

I'm trying to remember how you tell the time by looking at the sun." -"I should leave it for a while, it's too bright to see the numbers at the moment.

I need you to love me the same way the moon orbits around the earth, without intention to stop. "Confessing the heart

In my experience, shifting one’s mental outlook (perspective), even slightly, can significantly change the trajectory and reveal the sun coming up beyond the dark horizon.

I'm walking walking walking to where the sun is setting. I'm looking at it and wanting to catch it in my hand and to be squeezing until color are dripping out from it forever. That way everywhere it is always dark and nobody is ever having to see any of the terrible thing that is happening in this world.

In all the world there is no desolation more complete than the polar night. It is a return to the Ice Age— no warmth, no life, no movement. Only those who have experienced it can fully appreciate what it means to be without the sun day after day and week after week. Few men unaccustomed to it can fight off its effects altogether, and it has driven some men mad.

In the future, man will be able to create an artificial Sun which is very similar to the Sun in the sky that was once upon a time worshipped as a god!

In the morning, celebrate the beauty and warmth of sun light, in the evening, celebrate the song of silence and love of night.

In the morning, wonder and be generous like the sun. In the evening, meditate and be kind like the moon.

In the place where the sun kiss earth, blooms the poppy.

Inside, my soul became so cold I hated everything. I even despised the sun, for I knew I would never be able to play in its warm presence.

I roamed alone; O, barren dreams. My echoed voice, what lonely comfort. Here is my salvation: I hear the triumph drum; the rhythm of the rising, the long-awaited sun.

In the presence of the sun nobody sees the stars; excel, and you too will eclipse your competition.

I regard cell phone towers as miniature Sun’s that never set and are shining their toxic radiation 24 hours a day.

I observed that plants not only have a faculty to correct bad air in six to ten days, by growing in it...but that they perform this important office in a complete manner in a few hours; that this wonderful operation is by no means owing to the vegetation of the plant, but to the influence of light of the sun upon the plant.

I rise from the moist crevice of thought, I beat on the shores of her holy body, I fall from the sky in silver sheets of sadness. Rise onto me my precious sun.

I tear down Baxter, which loops around the last mile down to Back Cove. And then I stop short. The buildings have fallen away behind me, giving way to ramshackle sheds, sparsely situated on either side of the cracked and run-down road. Beyond that, a short strip of tall, weedy grass slants down toward the cove. The water is an enormous mirror, tipped with pink and gold from the sky. In that single, blazing moment as I come around the bend, the sun—curved over the dip of the horizon like a solid gold archway—lets out its final winking rays of light, shattering the darkness of the water, turning everything white for a fraction of a second, and then falls away, sinking, dragging the pink and the red and the purple out of the sky with it, all the color bleeding away instantly and leaving only dark. Alex was right. It was gorgeous—one of the best I’ve ever seen.

It has been found again. What? – Eternity. It is the sea mingled with the sun.

I see the sunRISE; you too can rise!

I thank God for opening my eyes and allowing me to see the sun and the blue skies- Because tomorrow's sun may never rise

I think that we were both the same star in the beginning of the universe and as the star exploded we drew apart. Our atoms merging into two different bodies, but over time our atoms found a way and found each other again.

It is absolutely okay if you do not have wings & halo to qualify as an Angel, but let your deeds, thoughts, conduct, reflexions & your demeanour perpetually proves that you are an Angel in the human body. Let you continuously believe that there is enough goodness all over in the world & it always prevails in the end. Let you remind yourself once again that it is always protagonist of the story who wins at the end after fighting all the odds. Let you constantly add more colours of happiness, hope, positivity, contentment & of your warmth in the environment while seeking it in everything everywhere all the time. Let everyday your sun rise & shine with all its might & turn whole colorless world into bright yellow & orange. Let your day be full of fun, joy & love. Let you, your life & your memories always remain as colorful as the festival itself or even more. Wish you a very happy & wonderful Holi.

It is foolish for the moon to compete with the sun for the spotlight.

It is like the man who closes his eyes to the sun and then finds himself walking over the edge of a cliff. If the man is too foolish to use the gift of light given to him, how can the sun be blamed for his death?

It is our duty to guide the future of our nation now, don't just say that they are directionless, characterless or any other less, add your part in this matter, be the character & direction you want to see in them, be the big shining sun for them that they could shin like a star in your light.

it behooves us old stagers to keep our lamps trimmed and burning to the last, and not trust to the sun’s looming. Thoreau, Henry David. The Complete Works of Henry David Thoreau: Canoeing in the Wilderness, Walden, Walking, Civil Disobedience and More (Kindle Locations 12226-12227). . Kindle Edition.

It is our duty to guide the future of our nation now, don't just say that they are directionless, characterless or any other less people, add your part in this matter, be the character & direction you want to see in them, be the big shining sun for them that they could shine like stars in your light.

It is so small a thing to have enjoyed the sun, to have lived light in the spring, to have loved, to have thought, to have done.

It now appears most of us need about 5,000 units a day if we avoid the sun. The government was off by a factor of ten; an ,i>“order-of-magnitude error.”,/i> Mistakes of this scale are rare in medicine.

It is raining! In other words little poems are coming down from the sky! Nature is literature! Sun is a fable; forest is a story; birds are a theatre; mountains are a myth; rain is a poem! Nature is literature!

It rains And rains And rains. But there is a sky above the rain, Nothing can rot the sky. Earth has turned to mud. What of it? The heart of the planet is made of fire, of ardent sun. (from "A Rainy Day")

It's tempting to think of red for sun," she said, "but it has to be just a dash, not much. More of a dark orange and a hint of brown. And then white on yellow on white. Not bright white,' she said. 'The kind of white that makes you squint, but in a softer way...' 'Go look at fire for a while. Go spend some time with fire.' Looking at fire was interesting, I have to admit. I sat with a candle for a couple hours. It has these stages of color: the white, the yellow, the red, the tiny spot of blue I'd heard mentioned but never noticed.

It was a chilly morning after the night's rain, and the sun hung in the sky like a pale coin lost by someone high up in the clouds.

It was growing dark on this long southern evening, and suddenly, at the exact point her finger had indicated, the moon lifted a forehead of stunning gold above the horizon, lifted straight out of filigreed, light-intoxicated clouds that lay on the skyline in attendant veils. Behind us, the sun was setting in a simultaneous congruent withdrawal and the river turned to flame in a quiet duel of gold....The new gold of moon astonishing and ascendant, he depleted gold of sunset extinguishing itself in the long westward slide, it was the old dance of days in the Carolina marshes, the breathtaking death of days before the eyes of children, until the sun vanished, its final signature a ribbon of bullion strung across the tops of water oaks.

It was moon hour when the burning lovers tired, and encased themselves beneath each other’s warmth. Their lips spoke of forbidden promises and butchered daydreams, yearning for the sun and days, and nights stuck in a cage made for monsters.