Best 2265 quotes in «moon quotes» category

The Light Of The Crescent Moon *** The full moon, my moon The light of the crescent moon Showers on my entire entity The honey tasted lips The discussing eyes The touching, smiling The perfumed personality The future prime minister Of my heart and mind I love you As like everyone loves you.

The lilac moon came high an altitude from mine to clasp its beauty,yet next to my bosom hide, lies she,like ten thousand silver moons illumine;and her soul’s music showered words as she spoke wide.

The light overcome the darkness.

The lovelorn came, too. The alone. The lunatics-they were brought here, sometimes. Got their name from the moon, it was only fair the moon had a chance to fix things.

The magic of autumn has seized the countryside; now that the sun isn't ripening anything it shines for the sake of the golden age; for the sake of Eden; to please the moon for all I know.

The loyal and most emerald The tempted By the moon's aging white Never fell from grace Never felt this grey

The majority of men could sooner be brought to believe themselves a piece of lava in the moon than to take themselves for a self.

THE MAXIMS OF MEDICINE Before you examine the body of a patient, Be patient to learn his story. For once you learn his story, You will also come to know His body. Before you diagnose any sickness, Make sure there is no sickness in the mind or heart. For the emotions in a man’s moon or sun, Can point to the sickness in Any one of his other parts. Before you treat a man with a condition, Know that not all cures can heal all people. For the chemistry that works on one patient, May not work for the next, Because even medicine has its own Conditions. Before asserting a prognosis on any patient, Always be objective and never subjective. For telling a man that he will win the treasure of life, But then later discovering that he will lose, Will harm him more than by telling him That he may lose, But then he wins. THE MAXIMS OF MEDICINE by Suzy Kassem

The moles came bearing their lamps and then the most ancient and magical creature that ever danced beneath the moon was lost in darkness once more.

The moonbeams dripped across the man’s face.

The moon had been observing the earth close-up longer than anyone. It must have witnessed all of the phenomena occurring - and all of the acts carried out - on this earth. But the moon remained silent; it told no stories. All it did was embrace the heavy past with a cool, measured detachment. On the moon there was neither air nor wind. Its vacuum was perfect for preserving memories unscathed. No one could unlock the heart of the moon. Aomame raised her glass to the moon and asked, “Have you gone to bed with someone in your arms lately?” The moon did not answer. “Do you have any friends?” she asked. The moon did not answer. “Don’t you get tired of always playing it cool?” The moon did not answer.

The moon is considered a relatively easy object to land humans on, everything else is much harder by orders of magnitude. It is the reason why we have not been to Mars and will likely never go there successfully with humans.

The moon is profound except when we land on it.

The Moon always finds an opportunity to turn our attention from the ground beneath our feet to the sky above our head!

The moon & sun were just friends til that night the sun couldn’t depart before dark snowed in under an avalanche of stars & poetry was born.

The moon belongs to the lovers? Yes! But it also belongs to the lonely! It belongs to anyone who needs it!

The moon climbed out of the ravine, blue, skinny, as if it had been fed on nothing but skimmed milk. It climbed out, and quickly slithered up and up along the finest thread-away from trouble, and on the very top it huddled, crouching on thin legs. ("The Protectress Of Sinners")

The moon embalms me with her love and she kisses me good night. The nightingale sings her song of love when I take rest in the arms of darkness in the night!

The moon energy is ancient, and with it comes our elders’ insights. The silver lining to every lesson, a clarity of consciousness that can be the gift to even the darkest of passages.

The moon has been loving us with her dreamy smile for billions of years, but still she is not tired.

The Moon is slipping from our grasp at a rate of about 1.5 inches a year. In another two billion years it will have receded so far that it won’t keep us steady and we will have to come up with some other solution, but in the meantime you should think of it as much more than just a pleasant feature in the night sky.

The moon is the same but the observers are different.

The moon glistens in her dreamy eyes as she frolics in the dark forest. She’s got wild overgrowing in her bones, and tangles upon tangles of midnight weaving through her long silky hair, this belle of the night.

the moon has different phases during the month she waxes and wanes and on some nights she hides from me you too have different phases during the month sometimes you are happy sometimes you are sad and sometimes you hide from me and I keep waiting for the moon and you

the moon is just another kind of clock

The moon is my mother. She is not sweet like Mary. Her blue garments unloose small bats and owls.

The Moon is the light of the night.

The moon is a body to desire and conquer, a poet's cliche and a scientist's fathomability.

The moon is beautiful only when the mind is seeking beauty and the heart is loving.

The moon is beautiful partly because we cannot reach it, (the sea is impressive because one can never be sure of crossing it safely. Even the pleasure one takes in a flower — and this is true even of a botanist who knows all there is to be known about the flower is dependent partly on the sense of mystery.

The moon is in a holding cell, grasped between the bones of his failing ribcage.

The moon is queen of everything. She rules the oceans, rivers, rain. When I am asked whose tears these are; I always blame the moon.

The moon rode in the sky - a hunted thing dodging behind wisps of tattered cloud, and the air was heavy and wet and redolent of dying leaves. ("The Refugee")

The moon rose, squatting in the strained blue.

The moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.

The moon doesn’t go through phases. Our perspective of the moon goes through phases. No matter what the calendar says, the moon is always full. Regardless of someone’s opinion, perspective, or inability to see it as whole and complete, the moon is unapologetically full. I find wisdom and strength in this truth.

The moon fascinates us in her simplicity.

The moon hangs alien, heavy, like a lock on a door; the door is tightly shut. ("The North")

The Moon is always there. A half blink of shadow, a crescent of an eyelash, opulent in fullness, spellbound in nothingness, and a friend.

The moon is jealous of you tonight. Your alluring charm and intoxicating beauty have immured me as a prisoner; I didn't even glance once at the moon tonight!

The moon only dares compete with the stars when the sun is in its corner.

The moon was a fang in the lightning sky.

The moon is sun at your place splashing its rays but it's the same art board we stare at.

The moon is your reminder that God is never-changing, and you can always depend on Him to hear your prayers.

The moon makes love to the ocean and in this holy conception it gives birth to a little tide.

The moon rose up that evening and shot her silver arrows at the house under the artu tree. The house was empty. Then the moon came across the sea and across the reef. She lit the lagoon to it's dark, dim heart. She lit the coral brains and sand spaces, and the fish casting their shadows on the sand and the coral. The keeper of the lagoon rose to greet her, and the fin of him broke her reflection on the mirror-like surface into a thousand glittering ripples. She saw the white staring ribs of the form on the reef. Then, peeping over the trees, she looked down into the valley, where the great stone idol had kept it's solitary vigil for five thousand years, perhaps, and more. At this base, in his shadow, looking as if under his protection, lay two human beings, naked, clasped in each other's arms and fast asleep. One could scarcely pity his vigil, had it been marked sometimes through the years by such an incident as this. The thing had been conducted just as the birds conduct their love affairs. An affair absolutely natural, absolutely blameless and without sin. A marriage according to Nature, without feasts or guests, consummated with accidental cynicism under the shadow of a religion a thousand years dead.

The moon's a crazy sweetheart.

The moon speaks in slivers and halves.

The moon's reflection bored into the flat water like a hole into the sea...

The moon teaches us that darkness can’t hide the beauty of life if we know how to reflect beauty.