Best 8172 quotes in «night quotes» category

The velvet tapestry of the night curved from horizon to horizon, flecked with thousands of tiny stars. There seemed all the more of them, for as well as filling the sky, they shimmered in an elegant ballet on the waves, the sea itself giving them life.

The villages were lighting up, constellations that greeted each other across the dusk. And, at the touch of his finger, his flying-lights flashed back a greeting to them. The earth grew spangled with light signals as each house lit its star, searching the vastness of the night as a lighthouse sweeps the sea. Now every place that sheltered human life was sparkling. And it rejoiced him to enter into this one night with a measured slowness, as into an anchorage.

The warm night claimed her. In a moment it was part of her. She walked on the grass, and her shoes were instantly soaked. She flung up her arms to the sky. Power ran to her fingertips. Excitement was communicated from the waiting trees, and the orchard, and the paddock; the intensity of their secret life caught at her and made her run. It was nothing like the excitement of ordinary looking forward, of birthday presents, of Christmas stockings, but the pull of a magnet - her grandfather had shown her once how it worked, little needles springing to the jaws - and now night and the sky above were a vast magnet, and the things that waited below were needles, caught up in the great demand. ("The Pool")

The weather was clear and still, and the countless stars opened above them, seeming like brilliant cold fruits that Maerad could simply pick out of the sky.

The whole of Paris was lit up. The tiny dancing flames had bespangled the sea of darkness from end to end of the horizon, and now, like millions of stars, they burned with a steady light in the serene summer night. There was no breath of wind to make them flicker as they hung there in space. They made the unseen city seem as vast as a firmament, reaching out into infinity.

the wine the sadness and the night

The world has been blind in the presence of artificial lights.They blame about the darkness in broad daylight.

The world is a giant eye, staring back at the stars. When it tires, it closes its lids--just as I am doing now--and gives way to dreams, which is why the night is so much more mysterious than the day.

The world has two faces : The day or the bright moment when we naturally stay alive (awake). The night or the dark moment when we naturally remain dead (sleep).

The worst things always happen at night, and oftener than one would think on stormy nights. ("The Compensation House")

They both closed their eyes and fell asleep in each other’s arms. For one night, it was as if their lives were normal and for a few hours they could forget about the rest of the world.

They don’t know I only speak in runaway train stations and everybody is always a few minutes too late to the platform. No one has ever gotten the chance to get too close because it is never romantic to fuck the girl who makes love to her own sadness every single night.

They were the most romantic creatures in the city in that room. If their days were spent in banks and office buildings, no matter: Their true lives began when they walked through this door—and were baptized into a deeper faith, as if brought to life by miraculous immersion. They lived only for the night.

They will smile, as they always do when they plan a major attack late in the night.

This is it. This is how I always saw heaven, always by the sea, always by night, always in the dark.

This is my favorite time of day. When the sun is setting and the last of its fiery fingers caress the water line before relinquishing their hold to the darkness of the night. And I can watch as the stars pop out, one by one, to pinprick the sky with their silvery light.

This tune goes manly. Come, go we to the King. Our power is ready; Our lack is nothing but our leave. Macbeth Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer you may. The night is long that never finds the day. They exit.

This will be the night I escape. The thought repeated in my mind like a refrain, over and over, and I believed it so hard that I whispered it aloud: ‘This will be the night I escape!

Those who have chosen to pass the night Entertaining friends And intimate ideas in the bright, Commodious rooms of dreams Will not feel the slightest tremor Or be wakened by what seems Only a quirk in the dry run Of conventional weather. For them, The long night sweeping over these trees And houses will have been no more than one In a series whose end Only the nervous or morbid consider. But for us, the wide-awake, who tend To believe the worst is always waiting Around the next corner or hiding in the dry, Unsteady branch of a sick tree, debating Whether or not to fell the passerby, It has a sinister air. How we wish we were sunning ourselves In a world of familiar views And fixed conditions, confined By what we know, and able to refuse Entry to the unaccounted for. For now, Deeper and darker than ever, the night unveils Its dubious plans, and the rain Beats down in gales Against the roof. We sit behind Closed windows, bolted doors, Unsure and ill at ease While the loose, untidy wind, Making an almost human sound, pours Through the open chambers of the trees. We cannot take ourselves or what belongs To us for granted. No longer the exclusive, Last resorts in which we could unwind, Lounging in easy chairs, Recalling the various wrongs We had been done or spared, our rooms Seem suddenly mixed up in our affairs. We do not feel protected By the walls, nor can we hide Before the duplicating presence Of their mirrors, pretending we are the ones who stare From the other side, collected In the glassy air. A cold we never knew invades our bones. We shake as though the storm were going to hurl us down Against the flat stones Of our lives. All other nights Seem pale compared to this, and the brilliant rise Of morning after morning seems unthinkable. Already now the lights That shared our wakefulness are dimming And the dark brushes against our eyes.

THOUGHTS ON A STILL NIGHT Before my bed, the moon is shining bright, I think that it is frost upon the ground. I raise my head and look at the bright moon, I lower my head and think of home.

Through the night we drove in a tangle of waking and sleeping, nightmares from hell and holy white dreams.

To be inspired is great, but to inspire is an honor.

To fall in love twice, with the same person, you need to grow another heart. That's all I do in my secret underground laboratory at night...

...to hold twilight or watch it darken, describes the pleasure we take in pausing to observe as day slips into night. To stand at our window, wrapped in the half-dark and watch the day disappear... is a moment of hygge.

Tonight I miss you like the sky misses his moon; a delicate epiphany growing on grass. I serenade the breeze into dancing a cha cha cha; the mountains echo in the background. September sky never looked more charming; or the sublime petals of the rose looked so graceful.

Tonight, It's not about You, Tonight It's about Me, It's about How Your absence, troubles me, It's about How i hide all of this Hurt . Tonight it's not about Love, Tonight it's about separations, it's about How i write, to remember You, it's about How i remember You, through all of Myself .

Tonight’s going to be one of those things that seem to last forever.

Tonight I’ll be looking at the blood moon and maybe I’ll think of you. But maybe I won’t and I probably won’t, but I guess that’s a chance you had to take.

Tonight is the night of telling our stories. You tell three and I four.

Three o'clock in the morning. The highway is empty, under a malignant moon. The oil drippings make the roadway gleam like a blue-satin ribbon. The night is still but for a humming noise coming up somewhere behind a rise of ground. Two other, fiercer, whiter moons, set close together, suddenly top the rise, shoot a fan of blinding platinum far down ahead of them. Headlights. The humming burgeons into a roar. The touring car is going so fast it sways from side to side. The road is straight. The way is long. The night is short. (Jane Brown's Body")

Tick Tock, The sun fell down; Ding Dong the moon took a peek, Ring Ding, It's Harmonizing my Insanity

Time did exist here, in small amounts (well some of the time) – and there were feint eddies and currents of time here, things that were barely tangible. Feint forces of the universe they were, nearly indiscernible from the nothingness like a warm breeze on a hot summer night. How long he had been here, he knew not – but he was slowly learning to master these barely tangible waves like a new surfer with one foot on the sandy beach and the other on a shiny new board of Hatred. Revenge splashed around his feet like the cold waves of the ocean of Time. Nearby, two other inmates collided with each other, bounced apart spread-eagled and spiraled off into the distance in infinite slowness. The Wetsuit of Insanity clung to his spiritual body, isolating him from the timelessness that seemed to exist here. A wind of Change blew at him from behind and he pushed off from the beach with iron determination and a mental clarity hereto before unknown to him. Something in the microcosm that didn’t even have a name went ‘bling’ and against all the laws of probability, Brad Xyl opened his eyes.

Time is valuable in life. You can show someone how much you appreciate them by giving your time. A good amount of time goes by each day. Spending time with the ones you love shows them how much you care.

To go to bed at night in Madrid marks you as a little queer. For a long time your friends will be a little uncomfortable about it. Nobody goes to bed in Madrid until they have killed the night. Appointments with a friend are habitually made for after midnight at the cafe.

To love your love without getting lost on a futuristic night.

Tomorrow's a red flush in the western sky Tomorrow's a black hush in the middle night Tomorrow swears the truth of now, now, and now In the trembling blue gasp of the morning light

Tout est inutile et il faut au moins avoir le courage de ne pas se faire de prétextes. J'aurais aimé clouer la nuit sur du papier, comme un grand papillon nocturne. Mais, plutôt, c'est elle qui m'a soulevé de ses eaux, comme le corps livide d'un mort et qui me pousse, inexorablement, au milieu du froid et de l'écume vaporeuse, au-devant d'elle.

Trees don't sneak on you." -Brook Where Small Fish Swim

Tread not into the fearsome night But pull the covers high, Step not into the wild dark wood For the Hobbers are dancing nigh

Treat tonight like it’s the last night of your life. I hope it’s not, but hey, you never know.

Trees surrounded them from all sides, casting long inky shadows that would, at another time, have been scary. But there was no point in being scared of what might be lurking in the shadows when the biggest bad, of all big bads, was gazing at her intently.

Two-thirty in the morning was kind of a bitch as times went. It fell into the in-between, nowhere land. Too late to get a really good night's sleep, but much too early to start the day.

Ukienda katika kituo cha watoto yatima halafu watoto wakakulilia shida zao na ukaondoka bila kuwasaidia chochote, hutalala vizuri usiku.

Ukikosana na mwanamke usimpige mchana. Mpige usiku. Ukimpiga mchana watu watasema umemwonea. Ukimpiga usiku watu watasema huenda alikuwa na makosa. Wanawake hawatakiwi kupigwa.

Under a night’s sky Filled with a hundred billion stars Is it so crazy to believe Our paths were destined to cross?

Twilight ... Say, who you are !! The dusk before the night Or the dawn before the light (Page 73)

Twilight was laying claim to the cité, and the sky was a deepening shade of lavender, spangled with stars and fleecy clouds the colour of plums.

Under her thick pancake makeup, her skin had been pockmarked, but he would stare at her adoringly from his cot at night and imagine her scars were constellations, a secret map to a far-off, happy place.

Uni on varannut heidät itselleen koko yöksi

Un feu, une nuit d'encre, les escarbilles mêlées aux étoiles: décor propice aux confidences. N'a-t-on jamais remarqué que, devant les flammes, les secrets se révèlent, et surgissent les souvenirs?