Best 8172 quotes in «night quotes» category

If people don't wish to be eaten then they shouldn't taste so nice

If stars avoided the dark, they would not be visible at night.

If we had more sleepless nights in prayer, there would be fewer souls to have a sleepless eternal night in hell.

If you deprive yourself of night’s mystery, you will devoid of universe’s mystery too!

If you have ever come up against Nothing you have no idea how it can scare you out of your wits. When I was a child I used to be afraid of Something in the dark. I know now that the most fearful thing about the dark is that we may find Nothing in it.

If you walk in the light, all the darkness around you shall disappear.

I gave them everything I had, and I guess it feels alright. I gave them my body, and they use it every night.

Ignore the reek of feces in the air, the bloodstains on the ground, and you have yourself a glorious night.

I had gone...to the smoke of cafes and nights when the room whirled and you needed to look at the wall to make it stop, nights in bed, drunk, when you knew that that was all there was, and the strange excitement of waking and not knowing who it was with you, and the world all unreal in the dark and so exciting that you must resume again unknowing and not caring in the night, sure that this was all and all and all and not caring. Suddenly to care very much and to sleep to wake with it sometimes morning and all that had been there gone and everything sharp and hard and clear and sometimes a dispute about the cost. Sometimes still pleasant and fond and warm and breakfast and lunch. Sometimes all niceness gone and glad to get out on the street but always another day starting and then another night. I tried to tell about the night and the difference between the night and the day and how the night was better unless the day was very clean and cold and I could not tell it; as I cannot tell it now. But if you have had it you know.

I get so god damn lonely and sad and filled with regrets some days. It overwhelms me as I’m sitting on the bus; watching the golden leaves from a window; a sudden burst of realisation in the middle of the night. I can’t help it and I can’t stop it. I’m alone as I’ve always been and sometimes it hurts…. but I’m learning to breathe deep through it and keep walking. I’m learning to make things nice for myself. To comfort my own heart when I wake up sad. To find small bits of friendship in a crowd full of strangers. To find a small moment of joy in a blue sky, in a trip somewhere not so far away, a long walk an early morning in December, or a handwritten letter to an old friend simply saying ”I thought of you. I hope you’re well.” No one will come and save you. No one will come riding on a white horse and take all your worries away. You have to save yourself, little by little, day by day. Build yourself a home. Take care of your body. Find something to work on. Something that makes you excited, something you want to learn. Get yourself some books and learn them by heart. Get to know the author, where he grew up, what books he read himself. Take yourself out for dinner. Dress up for no one but you and simply feel nice. it’s a lovely feeling, to feel pretty. You don’t need anyone to confirm it. I get so god damn lonely and sad and filled with regrets some days, but I’m learning to breathe deep through it and keep walking. I’m learning to make things nice for myself. Slowly building myself a home with things I like. Colors that calm me down, a plan to follow when things get dark, a few people I try to treat right. I don’t sometimes, but it’s my intent to do so. I’m learning.I’m learning to make things nice for myself. I’m learning to save myself. I’m trying, as I always will.

I had to get out, back out into the darkness, the soft velvety night where adventures could be had and things could grow.

I had many things to say, I did not have the words to say them. Painfully aware of my limitations, I watched helplessly as language became an obstacle…. Writing in my mother tongue—at that point close to extinction—I would pause at every sentence, and start over and over again…. All the dictionary had to offer seemed meager, pale, lifeless.

I hate the night, the awful night! It muzzles the scream of pain, it rolls the spin of woes, and the waves of the night are sweeping the town serving none but the ill-fated ones. The masquerade of time, what does it conceal in its twists? Agony and more in that night of bore. The night, what a night! A night of endless sighs and cries! I hate the night, that awful night, and I see no light, no hope for dawn, no peace in sight, nothing but to suffer from the turmoil. The night of pain! The night of shame! The untamed night of the wickedest symphonies!

I have a message for your daughter,” said Cale. “I am bound to her with cables that not even God can break. One day, if there is a soft breeze on her cheek, it may be my breath; one night, if the cool wind plays with her hair, it may be my shadow passing by.” And with this terrible threat he faced forward and the procession started once more. In less than a minute they were gone. In her shady room Arbell Swan-Neck stood white and cold as alabaster.

I have woken up…quite sloshed from night-mingled rains a little drugged, by mountain fogs I have been kidnapped for years....by a mere kiss.

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.

I have rather watch the beauty of night than the clamor of day.

I hope I never figure out who broke your heart and if I do, if I do. I'd spend all night losing sleep. I'd spend the night and I'd lose my mind. Well I'd spend the night and I'd lose my mind.

I heard raindrops in the night Pattering upon my eaves, Like a pleasing lullaby Easing me back to sleep, Which I thought was odd a bit, For I awoke because of it.

I left smiles on your wordless lips The night roads- dismal and narrow, dream’s path remains shadowy wide as our lone hearts felt that arrow From the Poem 'My Tomorrow

I just wish you could see my demons for what they are, and lay here beside me on the floor. No words. Just your presence.

I know that some night in some bedroom soon my fingers will rift through soft clean hair songs such as no radio plays all sadness, grinning into flow.

I likened her to the slender PSYCHÉ and judged that the perfection of her face ennobled everything unclean around her: The dusty hems of her bunched-up skirt, the worn straps of her nightshirt; the blackened soles of her bare feet [...] All this and the pungent air! Ô this night, sweet pungent night! "HÉBÉ" may come but a season. But this girl's season would know a hot spring and an Indian summer.

I like the night, I have clearer ideas in the dark.

I know that the night is not the same as the day: that all things are different, that the things of the night cannot be explained in the day, because they do not then exist, and the night can be a dreadful time for lonely people once their loneliness has started.

Il était tard; ainsi qu'une médaille neuve La pleine lune s'étalait, Et la solennité de la nuit, comme un fleuve Sur Paris dormant ruisselait.

I like being outside at night. It gives me this weird feeling, like I'm homesick but not for home.

I'll never get over the fact that the buildings all light up at night, and the night comes every night and without regret we let it go. We sleep a little and we live. That's what we do.

I look up upon a sparsely starred abyss Having wandered to this street corner In the middle of the night Watching the cars and people go by Wondering If this deep, black nothingness Is the sum total of being human.

I love it when there’s nothing Left to see but tiny spots of what’s still light Stories piercing the night.

I love the night. Anything seems possible at night when the rest of the world has gone to sleep. It's dark and silent in the house, but if I listen close, I hear the beat beat beat of my heart. I hear the creak and crack of the house. I hear my mum breathing gently in her sleep in the room next door.

Il traversa le sentier qui serpentait entre les arbres s'aidant de sa lampe torche. Le bruit des insectes nocturnes résonnait dans ses oreilles, on aurait dit que la forêt vivait, respirait, que les arbres menaçaient de se retirer de la terre et de s'abattre sur cet inconnu qui souillait leur temple sacré.

I looked like someone who'd had a night, and had a story to tell about it.

I love the night! It's not uncommon for me to see the light of a new day before closing my eyes on the old one.

I love the night. It’s not unusual for me to see the light of a new day before closing my eyes on the old one.

I’m afraid they’re not coming.” Abby said fearfully. “Our parents, our teachers – everyone! They’ve disappeared. That’s it. Lights out, Shelly. We’re on our own.

Imagine the fear the first men must have felt when they saw the sun setting on the horizon and the dark night beginning to rise—They must have felt such hopelessness within their hearts as the darkness descended, only for it to spark back to life as the stars began to shine through. However, the stars do not burn like the sun, do they? They provide little light for the land, which makes one wonder, that perhaps conquering the dark was not their purpose. Maybe the creators of the world intended when they made them, not to bring light into the world, but instead for them to serve as something else. That is the great mystery of our world, is it not? Why would the creators, the gods who shaped the land and the heavens with their hands, forge something so stunning, so dazzling, only to then hide them away during the day and allow men to gaze upon their beauty only when darkness is present—this must mean something, right? Maybe that was their intention all along. Perhaps they knew they could not eliminate the darkness of the night, so instead, they created these beautiful glowing lights in the sky—a small light for the people to cling to—to serve as a constant reminder to all that looked up, that no matter how dark the world seemed, there would always be light. Maybe that is why they created you as well

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.

I’m here for you. Always. Do you feel me?Hear me? I talk to you every night, does it reach you?

I moved from the day shift to the extreme night shift because I knew that they had a better acclimatization of a few hours at 9,200 feet, as opposed to the ridiculous half hour at 9,200 feet for the day shift. There was only one acclimatization from near sea level to 9,200 feet per week for the night shift workers, as they lived on the mountain for the duration of their shifts.

In between waking up from bed in the morning and going back in the evening, let something happen. God will bless that “something” for you.

In a sleepless ordinary night like any other, Black is the warmest colour...close your eyes to see better.

In day-time we investigate, but at night believe.

I never think of burning a star when I acquire certain sadness attached by suspending from the top of a raging dark sky within my unnerving me. From the poem- Not A NightGazer

Infinite sensations. Pearly night air.

In the darkness and the snow, the street is empty and it is just the night, the ice and me.

In later years it would sometimes happen that I’d wake up at night and see the stars so real in the sky and so meaningful in their course, and couldn’t understand how anyone could bring themselves to miss so much of the world.

In my window night invents another night

İnsanlar, gitgide, istediklerine, dilediklerine inanmakla yetindiklerini, düşünüp tartmayı, ölçünmeyi, olanı biteni görmeğe çalışmayı yavaş yavaş bir yana ittiklerini daha fark etmiyorlardır belki de. Bunun farkına varmağa başladıklarında ise ortalık iyice kararmış olacak. Sabahları güneş yeniden doğar gibi olsa da, ortalık yeniden aydınlanır gibi olsa da, gecenin karanlığı bütün bütün dağılmayacak hiç.

In the distance, the Himalayan range flared into fluorescence, as its snowy peaks reflected the moonlight back at the velvet sky, split into half by the shimmering strip of the Milky Way.