Best 2265 quotes in «moon quotes» category

Love, be mystical as the flickering blue flame of night as the fully-awoken moon beneath cobwebs of passing clouds amidst chanting high-tides fuzzy, as my blanket big enough to illuminate a hundred thousand billion galaxies and just small enough to fit into my embrace.

Mademoiselle De Lafontaine – in right of her father, who was a German, assumed to be psychological, metaphysical and something of a mystic – now declared that when the moon shone with a light so intense it was well known that it indicated a special spiritual activity. The effect of the full moon in such a state of brilliancy was manifold. It acted on dreams, it acted on lunacy, it acted on nervous people; it had marvelous physical influences connected with life. Mademoiselle related that here cousin, who was mate of a merchant ship, having taken a nap on deck on such a night, lying on his back, with his face full in the light of the moon, had wakened, after a dream of an old woman clawing him by the cheek, with his features horribly drawn to one side; and his countenance had never quite recovered its equilibrium.

Mahtab looked out of the window at the moon clearing the rooftops, bathing everything around in its silver light. She sighed, envying Nasim's freedom. For just like Mahtab's namesake, as the moonlight was beholden to the sun, she was beholden to her family.

Many nights I watch the sun set. Many nights I watch the moon. They fascinate me. They’re the only things I get to share with everyone: the stars, the moon, the universe.

Maybe the moon just lost herself gazing too long at the brilliance of the sun and that’s how she got her glow. And maybe we’re made of the same mysterious sort of magic that makes us magnify and mirror whatever we look at the most.

Many solemn nights Blond moon, we stand and marvel... Sleeping our noons away

Maybe my heart is the moon and hers is the sun and everything else is gravity.

Maybe we're just falling stars, we once danced in the same skyline looking down at the world. And we've fallen like all others, from near and far, we've gathered together, but separated by time and space, keeping a part of that light that we've came with and spreading it in this dark world that we've chosen to live in, in order to shine some light and love around. Maybe we've chosen to believe one truth today, and find it to be false tomorrow. Maybe we're trying to not get attached to the idea that we now know it all. At night, we see the truth of where we've fallen from, gazing in that night sky full of distant stars, constellations, planets, the reflection of the sun on the moon, all with their own stories to tell. Sometimes we wonder why would we leave such a mysterious place, with an infinite amount of stories and wonders. Maybe it's because as stars we could've only seen each other's light from afar, but here we can listen more carefully to each other's story, embrace each other and kiss, discover more and more of what can be seen when infinite star dust potential is put into one body and given freedom to walk the Earth and wander, love and enjoy every moment until coming back. Maybe in the morning, we'll only see one star shining up there and forget the others. Maybe that is also how life and death is, and the beauty of the sunrise and sunset that come in between, our childhood years and old years, when we reflect on the stars that we once were and that we will once again be. Maybe, just maybe.

Monday. Given that it means "day of the moon," you'd think there'd be more butts involved.

Menguante es este dulce dolor, Ida la aventura pero la memoria extendida. Por siempre serás mi amor de lunas.

MoonChild be free. Free from the tides of being boxed. Free from the norms of those who status quo. Find your path and follow it to the moon.

Moon is a superstar to a neon light Both are in doubt of their lifeless plight One envies the sun, the other one’s scared But to face the dark they’re always prepared

Moon, moon, rise in the sky to be a reminder of comfort and the hour when I was brave.

Moon, you have witnessed so much life and so much death. So many promises and so many lies. Tell me, moon, was there ever a love like mine? But moon, do not nod. I could never believe you anyway.

Moon and earth is the longest known stable love affair known to man kind

Moon Can't be alive in front of Sun's Eye..

Moon is a shining ball, from the window on my wall. Moon is blemish-laden, from the terrace of my mansion. Moon is a cold flame, from the porthole of my airplane. Yet I have heard, Moon is muse to philosophy brothers, Moon is nurse to romantic lovers. How can it be so various? Are we not the same? Or did the Moon really change?

Moon is the light from a lantern in heaven

My grandfather says the moon is the greatest gift from the gods." She glanced back at the sky. "Why is that?" She had always felt the same way but had never understood it. "God put the moon in the sky to remind us that our darkest moments lead us to our brightest." "Never give up hope," Vanessa finished quietly. "Grandpa says that's what the phases of the moon teach us," Michael said. "The moon goes from light to dark, but always back to light.

My darling, you can’t see it, can you? How like the moon you are. Both of you so timid in yourselves; hiding pieces from the world. Then, there are those rare moments when you both are full, and it becomes hard to look away. You are beautiful.

My heart's scripture tastes foreign in the mouths of cowards and on the tongues of those who have never breathed in the moon and breathed out the world.

My heart can feel the softness of a star Only when the moon stays afar I lay my mind on the pillow of sky Where sleep dares not ever to pry

My love for you will go on till the birds keep on singing, the bees keep on humming, the grass keeps on growing, and the moon keeps on shining on full-moon nights!

My only stake was the hook I shot in the moon, trying to capture stardom on my way to heaven. Without bravado. Just footsteps plodding me along till my big show. My showstopper. The one where I landed in a place without gravity.

My mind is the sun, and my heart is the moon. In the sky between them, there I am. Cristen Rodgers

MYSTIC WARRIOR I’ve fought side by side with him through the centuries He holds the sword that doubles rainbows He negotiates with the moon Racing with the wind He annihilates all my demons He resuscitates my fallen battle horse Gallops next to me back to the front of the line and reminds me that courage must be in my every step in order to win for just an inkling of terror in the heart is the strategy of loss and to stay alive is to further one’s destiny but one has to struggle beyond simple existence to attain the outcome of fulfillment Excerpt: Soulmates by Sondra Faye

Nights would have been expressionless had it not been for the moon. The moon, I say, is a mood.

...Neruda was right about all mysterious women - The moon lives in the lining of their skin...

Nature is the guardian of Africa. While the sun lights the African sky in day time, the moon begs the world to help her lighting Africa in the night

New Song" For You, Manuelita Inside the Horizon SOMEONE WAS SINGING The voice Is not known WHERE DOES IT COME FROM Among the branches No one is to be seen The moon itself was an ear And one hears no sound However a star unnailed Has fallen into the pond THE HORIZON HAS CLOSED UP And there is no exit

No moon rose that night. We walked on the tracks, hot and sticky, in displeased gusts of wind that slapped and whipped and pushed, and did more to keep us restless than the events of the day could do to exhaust us. One fact about that night can never be denied — Bright Andromeda, Cassiopeia, Orion and Perseus, the starry heroines and heroes of one-million human nights, marched over our heads in a great procession across the dome of heaven, and sank to the west, undisturbed, silently ashamed of the cowardice of man.

No living thing ever defeated Tain Hu in battle. Only the tide could fight her. Only the moon and the sea together could bring her down.

No matter how far away we are from each other in distance, or in time, when we look up into the clear night Sky. We will always see the same Moon.

No matter how pale and pure and perfect you are, the moon is even more perfect.

No matter how bleak and black her existence became, the familiar sight of the moon restored something within her, small as it was—like tiny fluttering wings of flame beating back the darkness.

No moon in sight, so I howled at the exit sign instead.

Once again I am riding my bike on the streets of loneliness. Your thoughts are the anchor that make me ride fast yet not lose my balance. You had promised me that you would never leave me alone. But I do know that the love that you have bestowed on me is more precious than the biggest pearls discovered by the sailors on their voyages of prosperity. I too sail on myriad voyages in the ocean of my life. And your love holds my ship steady in those turbulent waters of life when even the moon does not show her face to the world!

Now that's a ghastly moon, not ghostly.

On a long flight, after periods of crisis and many hours of fatigue, mind and body may become disunited until at times they seem completely different elements, as though the body were only a home with which the mind has been associated but by no means bound. Consciousness grows independent of the ordinary senses. You see without assistance from the eyes, over distances beyond the visual horizon. There are moments when existence appears independent even of the mind. The importance of physical desire and immediate surroundings is submerged in the apprehension of universal values. For unmeasurable periods, I seem divorced from my body, as though I were an awareness spreading out through space, over the earth and into the heavens, unhampered by time or substance, free from the gravitation that binds to heavy human problems of the world. My body requires no attention. It's not hungry. It's neither warm or cold. It's resigned to being left undisturbed. Why have I troubled to bring it here? I might better have left it back at Long Island or St. Louis, while the weightless element that has lived within it flashes through the skies and views the planet. This essential consciousness needs no body for its travels. It needs no plane, no engine, no instruments, only the release from flesh which circumstances I've gone through make possible. Then what am I – the body substance which I can see with my eyes and feel with my hands? Or am I this realization, this greater understanding which dwells within it, yet expands through the universe outside; a part of all existence, powerless but without need for power; immersed in solitude, yet in contact with all creation? There are moments when the two appear inseparable, and others when they could be cut apart by the merest flash of light. While my hand is on the stick, my feet on the rudder, and my eyes on the compass, this consciousness, like a winged messenger, goes out to visit the waves below, testing the warmth of water, the speed of wind, the thickness of intervening clouds. It goes north to the glacial coasts of Greenland, over the horizon to the edge of dawn, ahead to Ireland, England, and the continent of Europe, away through space to the moon and stars, always returning, unwillingly, to the mortal duty of seeing that the limbs and muscles have attended their routine while it was gone.

Once, in grade school, our class was taken on an overnight excursion to a campground. The air was warm: we had a campfire and ate hot dogs; and as darkness fell, we were herded down to the lake. There were perhaps thirty children, so I suppose there were at least four or five adults. We trooped through the woods with flashlights. There must have been yelling and singing, the grown-ups chattering. A noisy expedition. At the shore of the lake we were presented, as if on a stage, with a doubled moon -- one floating in the clear dark sky, one in the clear dark calm of the water. Were there exclamations, shouts of amazement, loud giggle praise for this sight? There might have been, but for me there was only silence. An unprecedented silence, tranquil and immense. Silence, and the moon on the lake -- a sight so pure I nearly staggered under its impact. I knew, without the words to say it, that the lack in my life of what this moon and lake represented was the other side of the coin of happiness. Not unhappiness, but shame, which was possibly the same thing, and which then rose up in me in nauseating waves.

Once a month, ripe with psychic energy, the moon grows to Her zenith. Blazing full with the sun's rays through the night sky, it is with great compassion and love for her children that she luminesces.

Once more and for the last time, the moon flashed above and broke into pieces, and then everything went black.

One bright star is better than a thousand dull moons.

One day under the sun is better than a thousand years under the moon.

Nothing belongs to itself anymore. These trees are yours because you once looked at them. These streets are yours because you once traversed them. These coffee shops and bookshops, these cafés and bars, their sole owner is you. They gave themselves so willingly, surrendering to your perfume. You sang with the birds and they stopped to listen to you. You smiled at the sheepish stars and they fell into your hair. The sun and moon, the sea and mountain, they have all left from heartbreak. Nothing belongs to itself anymore. You once spoke to Him, and then God became yours. He sits with us in darkness now to plot how to make you ours.” K.K.

nothing is lifeless when the moon writes its screed on the silvern sand silence -From the poem:"The Universe In Blossom

Now the moon of the Aztecs is at the zenith, and all the world lies still. Full and white, the white of bones, the white of a skull; blistering the center of the sky well with its throbbing, not touching it on any side. Now the patio is a piebald place of black and white, burning in the downward-teeming light. Not a leaf moves, not a petal falls, in this fierce amalgam. ("The Moon Of Montezuma")

Oh! Dione of Opalescent Skin Ethereal. Your oospheric containment disperses argentous streams of velvety rays that cradle recesses of soul in gossamer of beatific visions.La Luna! Your enigmatic smile. Your watery countenance stirs the imagination and bestows inspiration on those receptive to Your Sacred Gifts.

Oh sky...I won't ask so much as to become the sun or the moon, just one of the stars in between...

Oh my sweet muse tell me what do I do on such romantic full-moon nights! You inflame my passion, and the moon serenades my obsession!