Best 8172 quotes in «night quotes» category

When he appeared before the lord, his lordship was smitten immediately with the boy's unadorned beauty, like a first glimpse of the moon rising above a distant mountain. The boy's hair gleamed like the feathers of a raven perched silently on a tree, and his eyes were lovely as lotus flowers. One by one his other qualities became apparent, from his nightingale voice to his gentle disposition, as obedient and true as a plum blossom.

When he woke in the woods in the dark and the cold of the night he'd reach out to touch the child sleeping beside him. Nights dark beyond darkness and the days more gray each one than what had gone before. Like the onset of some cold glaucoma dimming away the world.

When I am gone, break the night. Set my remains on fire, so I can still be your light. For I am forever indebted to you. O people of the world, O love, I am eternally yours.

When I did finally speak, I surprised myself by saying exactly what was on my mind.
“You must hate me.” She stared a long time at me. I did,” she said slowly, “But it’s mostly myself I hate.” Don’t,” I said. And why the hell shouldn’t I hate myself? Everybody else hates me.

when I finally begin to drift into sleep your memory is the...first and the moonlight the last, to kiss my face.

When I finally lie down, I find sleep elusive. The same thoughts that trouble me during the day are only compounded by the stillness of night.

When it happens and it hits hard, we decide certain things, and realize there's truth in all those dark, lonely days" He had an instantaneous look about him, a glimmer and a glint over those eyes, he knew how the world worked, and took pleasure in its wickedness. He would give a dime or two to those sitting on the street, he would tell them things like: "It won't get any better," and "Might as well use this to buy your next fix," and finally "It's better to die high than to live sober," His suit was pressed nicely, with care and respect, like the kind a corpse wears, he'd say that was his way of honoring the dead, of always being ready for the oncoming train, I liked him, he never wore a fake smile and he was always ready to tell a story about how and when "We all wake up alone," he said once, "Oftentimes even when sleeping next to someone, we wake up before them and they are still asleep and suddenly we are awake, and alone." I didn't see him for a few days, a few days later it felt like it'd been weeks, those weeks drifted apart from one another, like leaves on a pond's surface, and became like months. And then I saw him and I asked him where he'd been, he said, "I woke up alone one day, just like any other, and I decided I didn't like it anymore.

When I was researching the book Toxic Electricity, I would see biological reactions for up to a week afterwards. They are typically strong in the first day or two after the electromagnetic field (EMF) exposures and tail off as the week goes on. I would feel fine during the EMF exposures and start seeing weird health effects usually during sleep that night. Extended time around high voltage power lines & power poles were the worst for provoking reactions, followed by wifi and transmitting utility meters.

When life gets dark, that's when stars appear among us. Shine bright, beautiful ones. Throw light from your burning hearts.

When night comes do not despair; rejoice instead and say to yourself, “At least now I can see the stars.

When night comes on in a room lit by kerosene, any flicker of the flame can give the sense that darkness is about to triumph.

When night falls, does it make a sound?

when night falls, i am picturing my will be glories

When something hurts them, they weep. By night, they rest, they sleep

When the dancing breeze around the night guarding the hooting owl’s emotion, I treasure my longing in the melted silence of our spiritual devotion forever glared (even in the dark) Only for you From the poem- Only for You

When the Deep Purple falls, Over sleepy garden walls, And the stars begin to flicker in the sky, Thru the mist of a memory You wander back to me, Breathing my name with a sigh. In the still of the night, Once again I hold you tight, Tho' you're gone, your love lives on When moonlight beams. And as long as my heart will beat Lover, we'll always meet Here in my Deep Purple dreams.

when the night is a bit more than some little suns pulled apart when the heart lets loose a cry our disquietude wrings dry

When the silence of the night becomes the chanting of poetry, the departure of con-cavity

When the rain finally abates, I decide to wait out the night instead of trying to climb in the dark.

When the sun goes down, melting away his caresses into the sky which consonants with the ocean, lively colors are scattered through the deep pale depth during some short sensuous instants. Later, as by art of magic, light is consumed into the infinite horizon giving space to the poked voidness and its full-cristal-covered vastness. Then, to mystify the night, a marvelous and alluring sentinel rests next to us through the vivid night, just until the next prismatic fest arrives with its celebrating aperture.

When twilight sleeps holding the night In your arms you embrace me tight Runaway hours clenched by kisses More of your love my heart misses

With night's Dim veil and blue I will cover my eyes, I will bind close my eyes that are So weary.

When you are tired and want to sleep for the night. I will take you in my arms and lay you there on the bed. I will lie down next to you, hold you in my arms, and stroke your head. And then we will both fall asleep together and find ourselves in la la land.

When your partner is regularly going out to bars and nightclubs and does not come home until after sunrise, it is likely that they are engaging in some form of infidelity.

Where people are gone the night falls upward, black and unmanned.

Why didn't anyone question "It's been a hard days night" Who talks like that anyway?

Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon...

Women can go mad with insomnia. The sleep-deprived roam houses that have lost their familiarity. With tea mugs in hand, we wander rooms, looking on shelves for something we will recognize: a book title, a photograph, the teak-carved bird -- a souvenir from what place? A memory almost rises when our eyes rest on a painting's grey sweep of cloud, or the curve of a wooden leg in a corner. Fingertips faintly recall the raised pattern on a chair cushion, but we wonder how these things have come to be here, in this stranger's home. Lost women drift in places where time has collapsed. We look into our thoughts and hearts for what has been forgotten, for what has gone missing. What did we once care about? Whom did we love? We are emptied. We are remote. Like night lilies, we open in the dark, breathe in the shadowy world. Our soliloquies are heard by no one.

Words could be quite enough for magic to occur, when the night was warm enough and the moon waxing.

Work hard in the day; as hard as you can even if no one is watching you! Work harder in the night; as harder as if everyone's eyes are on you.

When your dreams are clearer and stronger than your sleep, night becomes a mere extension of day

Where all was burnt to ash before them no fires were to be had and the nights were long and dark and cold beyond anything they'd yet encountered. Cold to crack the stones. To take your life.

White-crested waves crash on the shore. The masts sway violently, every which way. In the gray sky the gulls are circling like white flakes. Rain squalls blow past like gray slanting sails, and blue gaps open in the sky. The air brightens. A cold silvery evening. The moon is overhead, and down below, in the water; and all around it-a wide frame of old, hammered, scaly silver. Etched on the silver-silent black fishing boats, tiny black needles of masts, little black men casting invisible lines into the silver. And the only sounds are the occasional plashing of an oar, the creaking of an oarlock, the springlike leap and flip-flop of a fish. ("The North")

Why are we sneaking out in the night?” Jack repeated. “I already explained,” Sam snapped. “If you don’t listen—” Taylor jumped in to say, “Because otherwise Astrid would find some way to stop him.” She mimicked Astrid’s voice, injecting it with steel and a tense, condescending tone. “Sam. I am the smartest, hottest girl in the world. So do what I tell you. Good boy. Down, boy. Down!” Sam remained silent, walking steadily just a few feet ahead. Taylor continued, “Oh, Sam, if only you could be as smart plus as totally goody-goody as I am. If only you could realize that you will never be good enough to have me, me, wonderful me, Astrid the Blond Genius.” “Sam, can I shoot her now?” Dekka asked. “Or is it too soon?” “Wait until we’re over the ridge,” Sam said. “It’ll muffle the sound.” “Sorry, Dekka,” Taylor said. “I know you don’t like talking about boy-girl things.” “Taylor,” Sam warned. “Yes, Sam?” “You might want to think about how hard it would be to walk if someone were to turn off gravity under your feet every now and then.” “I wonder who would do that?” Dekka said. Suddenly Taylor fell flat on her face. “You tripped me!” Taylor said, more shocked than angry. “Me?” Dekka spread her hands in a completely unconvincing gesture of innocence. “Hey, I’m all the way over here.” “I’m just saying: you can see where that could make a long walk just a lot longer,” Sam said. “You guys are so not fun,” Taylor grumped. She bounced instantaneously to just behind Sam. She grabbed his butt, he yelled, “Hey!” and she bounced away innocently. “To answer your question, Jack,” Sam said, “we are sneaking out at night so that everyone doesn’t know we’re gone and why. They’ll figure it out soon enough, but Edilio will have to have more of his guys on the streets if I’m not there playing the big, bad wolf. More stress for everyone.” “Oh,” Jack said. “The big, bad wolf,” Taylor said. She laughed. “So, when you play that fantasy in your head is Astrid Little Red Riding Hood or one of the Three Little Pigs?” “Dekka,” Sam said. “Hah! Too slow!

Woodget glanced into the dim shadows behind the trees. "What you be hiding fer?" he called. "On such a night as this even the greatest may hide and not be ashamed," came the response.

Working the astronomy night shift required sitting and staring at many computer screens for up to eighteen hours per night for several nights.

Would you be my reason to wake up in the morning? Let's begin by you being the reason why I don't want to sleep.

You don’t need a sad soul to feel the beauty of a dead grave Just stay with the pale moon when darkness wants the night to be brave

you clutter my mind thoughts of you, thoughts of me with you thoughts that keep me from rest that ull me to sleep at night your words are like butter they're smooth and they're rich and they make the bitter bits better

You don't look very happy." Tally tried to smile. David had shared his biggest secret with her; she should tell him hers. But she wasn't brave enough to say the words. "It's been a long night. That's all." He smiled back. "Don't worry, it won't last forever.

You found me under the thousand stars, shining above us at the night. You found me and you wanted me to shine for you.

You get a peculiar outlook at night. You feel an oddity, and are quite content to be one.

You have not lived until you have fled a city in a country where you do not speak the language in the middle of the night.

You kissed me that morning as if you’d never done it before and never would again and now I write another letter that I will never dare to send, collecting memories of loss like chains tight around my chest, and if you see a fire from the shore tonight it’s my chains going up in flames.

You have to choose whether to go to a restless sleep or to stay awake and fight for a blissful night rest.

You know those nights where the day has unfolded in such a way that now, in the night, you can feel all the gaps in your body and you can see all the reasons you’re not who you wish you were - you know those nights where the only sound is of you drinking and the people outside who have each other to drink with - those nights when you’re unable to think or be or do because of the paralyzing loneliness - it feels like a hundred of those nights - stitched together and squared - and they come to me in a blush.

You know you love him when you can't sleep at night and get up early to talk to him the next morning.

You'll become that devil overnight, if you want to become that celebrity overnight.

You live through each memory you have hidden inside me. Through the places, we had been to and through the songs, which only we have sung and heard. Every night, I lie down and look at the sky gazing the universe in its eye. Watching the breeze and the stars carry the pieces of us and deliver it to the infinity and every time I wonder if you are doing the same somewhere.

Your tenderness has pervaded into the very pore of my being. Last night I inhaled the fragrance of the moon!