Best 2265 quotes in «moon quotes» category

He who called her so called her by her true name, for she is the full moon of full moons, afore God!

How can the moon be scooped from the water's surface, or flowers be plucked from the void?

How I miss wandering around with old souls, Aimlessly moving from one place to another How I miss all our dreams and our goals And how we've lost ourselves to find each other Seems like a playful game of hide-n-seek But that's how we'll forever play this life Loving and living the truth that we seek Until embraced we find our way to strive Gazing into strangers' eyes to find our soul mates, Knowing we're so much closer than we thought. Our heart keeps the light that forever radiates Through all the darkness, 'til love is taught And yet again we look into the skies, We see the stars, the moon, that light Missing our home beyond the nights Living in love until the end of the fight.

How lucky our world is to have the Moon! How lucky we humans are to have the Moon! And finally how lucky our Moon is to have a view of the deep blue Earth!

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins; Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it." - Lorenzo, Acte V, Scene 1

Huysmans takes the old trope of moon-as-woman and replaces its romantic connotations with decadent ones: the moon here is woman as clamorous lunatic, as convulsive epileptic.

HYMN OF THE DIVINE DANDELION I am born as the sun, But then turn into the moon, As my blonde hairs turn Grayish-white and fall To the ground, Only to be buried again, Then to be born again, Into a thousand suns And a thousand Moons. Suzy Kassem

I always wondered why it took "three days" for significant things to happen in the Bible--Jonah spent three days in the belly of the whale, Jesus spent three days in the tomb, Paul spent three days blind in Damascus--and now I know. From earliest times, people learned that was how long they had to wait in the dark before the sliver of the new moon appeared in the sky. For three days every month they practiced resurrection.

I am born as the sun, But then turn into the moon, As my blonde hairs turn Grayish-white and fall to The ground, Only to be buried again, Then to be born again, Into a thousand suns And a thousand moons. HYMN OF THE DIVINE DANDELION by Suzy Kassem Copyright 1993-1994 - A SPRING FOR WISDOM

I am glad I didn't understand, because I have rarely felt joy like that, and assurance. It was like one of those dreams where you're filled with some extravagant feeling you might never have in life, it doesn't matter what it is, even guilt or dread, and you learn from it what an amazing instrument you are, so to speak, what a power you have to experience beyond anything you might ever actually need. Who would have thought that the moon could dazzle and flame like that?

I am in the night of the stars. The moon is new and I see my way by focusing on the light given off by the Souls of the trees. The night air is thick and dark and sweet, like blueberries. It enters my nose and throat and ears to fill me up with its night magic. My ancestors are with me. They are in me. I can hear them. I felt them all day. My great grandmother, Lily Rose, came first. They will guide me with voices that flicker like lightening bugs, orange, hot, liquid glow in the moment.

I am living on the moon, I told myself, I have little house all by myself on the moon.

I am longing for you in life and in death As the moon is longing for night and life is longing for breath

I am the Lone Wolf and the Moon is mine.

I am the sun who will bring delight when you are in-front of me. I am the moon who will show shyness when you are away from me.

I am trying to describe what I have never before attempted to put into words. I have made myself a little weary in the struggle. It was one day as I listened to baseball that it occurred to me how the moon actually moves, in a spiral, because while it orbits the earth it also follows the orbit of the earth around the sun. This is obvious, but the realization pleased me. There was a full moon outside my window, icy white in a blue sky, and the Cubs were playing Cincinnati.

I am the moon, and sometimes I shine full in my dark, and sometimes I shine half in my dark, and sometimes I am the darkness myself.

I believe that this Nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to earth.

I cannot squeeze the stars; but I can squeeze my mind to feel the moon compressed.

I could make love with you until the mood decides to never glow again.

I can sense your love, why leave me in darkness? Beguile me for your amusement, stealing my soul without kisses. You are the sun and I, the moon. Your beauty is reflected in my eyes. When we are apart, I am extinguished in the blackness of these skies.

I could make love with you until the moon decides to never glow again.

I dipped my hands in the moon-blood;

I don't know you, But I love you, Just as God loves me and you. The sun and the moon are opposing forces, But they still greet each other, Peacefully, As one awakens in the morning, Just as the other goes to sleep. Life has pounded me down and thrashed me around, Time and time again, But I always get right back up, Because I still love life - Just as the earth still loves The rain. ENDURANCE by Suzy Kassem THE SPRING FOR WISDOM Copyright 1993

I don't care for moon to be on my side, I already have his Master.

I don’t know what was more exhausting—being forced to spew out overwrought poetry for hours on end or having that little girl gaze at me all night as if I hung the moon.” A wry smile touched Adrian’s lips. “Didn’t you?” “No,” Julian retorted, lifting the decanter to the sky in a mocking toast. “Only the stars.

I don't want realism. I want magic. I live magic. I am magic.

I do not want to sleep for fear I might miss the twinkle of the brightest star for fear I may never know how the moon glimmers, in the darkest hour.

I don't mean to deny a feeling of solitude. It is there, reinforced by the fact that radio contact with the Earth abruptly cuts off at the instant I disappear behind the moon, I am alone now, truly alone, and absolutely isolated from any known life. I am it. If a count were taken, the score would be three billion plus two over on the other side of the moon, and one plus God knows what on this side.

I’d rather live in a world where I get to love the moon than in one where I don’t, even if the moon won’t return the feeling.

I'd take her to the top of the widow's tower at Ainsdale Castle, late at night, and we'd watch the moon rise. The widow's tower was very high but she wasn't afraid. Sometimes I'd steal a pie from the kitchens and we'd picnic up there. I brought up a blanket, too, so she wouldn't have to sit on the bare stone floor." Mrs. Crumb made an aborted movement, as if she'd meant to turn to face him and then changed her mind. He let the wineglass dangle by his side. "I told her a rabbit lived on the moon and she believed me. She believed everything I told her then." "What rabbit?" "There." He roused himself, straightening. He drew back, fitting her against his chest and setting his chin on her shoulder. She smelled of tea and housekeeperly things, and she was warm, so warm. He caught up her right hand in his and traced the moon with it. "D'you see? There are the long ears, there the tail, there the forepaws, there the back." "I see," she whispered. "I told her the rabbit had lavender fur and ate pink moon clover up there." His mouth twisted, as he remembered. "She'd watch me with big blue eyes, her mouth half-open, a bit of piecrust on her dress. She hung on every word." He could hear her breath, could feel the tremble of her limbs. Did she fear him? "D'you believe me?" he asked against her ear, his lips wet with wine. She was a housekeeper and housekeepers didn't matter in the grand schemes of kings and dukes and little girls who wished upon rabbit moons. But she was silent, damnable housekeeper. They breathed together for a moment, there in the night air, London twinkling before them, overhung by a pagan moon. At last she stirred and asked, "What happened to the girl?" He broke away from her, draining his glass of wine. "She grew up and knew me for a liar.

Even grief can be selfish.

If anyone understood loneliness, the moon would.

If I could choose a gift, a blessing from a star, I'd choose the simple way to get into your heart I'd pick the words that heal your very hidden scar And turn my every feeling into a work of art. If I could pick you up, from deep down where you are, I'd raise you to the stars and to the moon above I'd take you for a walk in my unending world, And let your soul unfold, with every single word.

If you ever do something as cosmically stupid as that again, at least get it on video. You'll need a keepsake of this place when I fire your ass, and nobody will ever believe this one when you get back on the beach."  Cole Benson grinned. "Right. I can't even screw up good."  "Then don't screw up at all.”

If I have loved anyone truly it is you. You are the completeness of my incompleteness. You walked into my life and made me fall in love with life. I who was a wanderer in search of true love found the ocean of love in you. You came into my life like the rain to a parched desert. You made me understand the sensitivity and tenderness present within my own heart. You made a melancholy poet like me find the elixir of love. Your tenderness and sensitivity has pervaded into the very pore of my being. Last night you made me inhale the fragrance of the moon. I love you. And I can't love anyone else after you!

If I have loved anyone truly it is you. You are the completeness of my incompleteness. You walked into my life and made me fall in love with life. I who was a wanderer in search of true love found the ocean of love in you. You came into my life like the rain to a parched desert. You made me understand the sensitivity and tenderness present within my own heart. You made a melancholy poet like me find the elixir of love. Your tenderness and sensitivity has now pervaded into the very pore of my being. Last night you made me inhale the fragrance of the moon. I love you. And I can't love anyone else after you!

If I spelled out the Principles of Faith I would be barking on the moon.

If the Moon wants to show its beauty to the world, it must make a deal with the wind to disperse the clouds!

If the pull of the moon can disturb the ocean, why can’t the pull of planets cause a disturbance in the mind of creatures like us.

I find it curious that I never heard any astronaut say that he wanted to go to the Moon so he would be able to look back and see the Earth. We all wanted to see what the Moon looked like close up. Yet, for most of us, the most memorable sight was not of the Moon but of our beautiful blue and white home, moving majestically around the sun, all alone and infinite black space.

If the sky was the limit, none of our heroes would have reached the moon.

If you can be heartless as the first man who visited the space, then there will be nothing impossibe for you to achieve.

If you ever do something as comically stupid as that again, at least get it on video. You'll need a keepsake of this place when I fire your ass, and nobody will ever believe this one when you get back on the beach." Cole Benson grinned. "Right. I can't even screw up good." "Then don't screw up at all.

If you had stars inside your brain cells, you'd probably understand what I am talking about.

I have drunk the night and swallowed the stars. I am dancing with abandon and singing with rapture. There is not a thing I do not love. There is not a person I have not forgiven. I feel a universe of love. I feel a universe of light. Tonight, I am with old friends and we are returning home. The moon is our witness.

If you think of the moon as already used, it’s not as difficult to take in, because then it’s just like you, Traveled the world like you, Seen the globe like you, But, it’s still bright.

...I got to love solitude - to see the Moon rise and set - I had time to watch it trace the window square across the wall in silent grace...

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 waltzed with wolves and howled at the moon. But my heart will always remember the slow-dance that ended much too soon.