Best 17 quotes in «starlight quotes» category

She was fire and life. She was awe and starlight.

Remember me when faded illumination transcends my name- Remarks are heard with beating silence and I am born on tranquil starlight-

Night never needs a shade but it requires to fade into the grin of twinkling stars where light is just a glint of scars

She spared a glance for the townscape of jagged roofs and straggly tree branches, of rough edges that snagged the sky and made it bleed starlight.

Starlight is best felt at noon...

There is fire and starlight in your veins.

There was the starlight set upon the brilliant darkness; and there were her pale cool cheeks, and he let himself be lost in love for her, as he had so wanted to do.

There is no end to this sort of life. It’s the road less taken and it’s the one a lot of us have had to take for many reasons. Look at me for an example, I was living out of a car when I met Mark. I was given no choice but to get into this life in the underground.

They’d sat under the starlight and shared quiet conversation and had both read together during the day, happy amidst all of nature’s splendor. On the days the urge to run away grew too strong to bear, she remembered for dear life.

The sky [above Tehran] was like a star-eaten black blanket, and so far as I could read them its constellations were unfamiliar. Lawrence speaks somewhere of drawing 'strength from the depths of the universe'; Malcolm Lowry speaks about the deadness of the stars except when he looked at them with a particular girl; I had neither feeling. The founder of the Jesuits used to spend many hours under the stars; it is hard to be certain whether his first stirrings of scientific speculation or pre-scientific wonder about space and the stars in their own nature were some element in his affinity with starlight, or whether for him they were only a point of departure, but in this matter I think I am about fifty years more modern than Saint Ignatius; stars mean to me roughly what they meant to Donne's generation, a bright religious sand imposing the sense of an intrusion into human language, and arousing a certain personal thirst to be specific.

Together they’d run away. Together they could find a place to call home. Together they’d finally form their own constellation and never break apart again. He would be her starlight again and she his sun.

… When I'm ready, my uterus will lunar eclipse. You could have been my baby. I was almost your mother. In the gap, I left you to fall– jarred starlight, steaming.

You were right to come to see a dying man. It is right that these moments should have witnesses. Everyone has his dream; I would like to live till dawn, but I know I have less than three hours left. It will be night, but no matter. Dying is simple. It does not take daylight. So be it: I will die by starlight

And a softness came from the starlight and filled me full to the bone.

Time’s relativity is considered and abandoned, for the more revelatory experiences of starlight in strands, and pearly floors that span as far as absolute compassion...

I had travelled from Spain into Morocco and from there south to the Atlas Mountains, at the edge of the Sahara Desert…one night, in a youth hostel that was more like a stable, I woke and walked out into a snowstorm. But it wasn’t the snow I was used to in Minnesota, or anywhere else I had been. Standing bare chest to cool night, wearing flip-flops and shorts, I let a storm of stars swirl around me. I remember no light pollution, heck, I remember no lights. But I remember the light around me-the sense of being lit by starlight- and that I could see the ground to which the stars seemed to be floating down. I saw the sky that night in three dimensions- the sky had depth, some stars seemingly close and some much farther away, the Milky Way so well defined it had what astronomers call “structure”, that sense of its twisting depths. I remember stars from one horizon to another, making a night sky so plush it still seems like a dream. It was a time in my life when I was every day experiencing something new. I felt open to everything, as though I was made of clay, and the world was imprinting on me its breathtaking beauty (and terrible reality.) Standing nearly naked under that Moroccan sky, skin against the air, the dark, the stars, the night pressed its impression, and my lifelong connection was sealed.

If I could simply place the various parts of myself into the night sky to occasionally glance up and behold myself—maybe in the end I am only hoping to vicariously soak up some starlight.