Best 135 quotes in «moonlight quotes» category

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 I saw you in moonlight and I can tell you - the silvery dust of the stars doesn't shimmer like you...

On the misty window of her room, she let her finger trace a broken line. She was that line.

Only the moon's smile can cure the unseen scars of darkness

On wings of moonlight Beneath the stars Breathing time I shall find Your eyes (fragment from "Beatitude", chapter Hope)

Perhaps everything can be solved by a walk in moonlight.

¿Qué dice el río? Historias que se tejen en la danza a la luz de la luna de un amor delicado de la inclinada palmera de la llama de la lámpara que alimenta la oscuridad. ماذا يقول النهرُ؟ أقصوصةٌ يَنْسجُها من رَقْص ضوءِ القَمرْ يَنْسجُها من غَزَلِ ناعم يُداعب النَخْلُ به المنحدَرْ من نور مصباح يُغدِّي الدجى De què parla el riu? D'històries que es teixen en la dansa a la llum de la lluna d'un amor delicat de la inclinada palmera de la flama que alimenta la foscor.

Reflection is a good reminder of the truth! You may turn your eyes away from the truths, but the reflections will remind them to you! And anything which describes a truth well is a reflection of that truth! Turn your eyes away from the Moon, then the lake will remind the Moon to you, the shadows of the wolves howling against the Moon will remind the truth to you, even in the eyes of a frog, you shall see the Moon! Thus, if you turn your face away from the truth, it will never work! Because the reminders of truth are everywhere and they are as strong as the truth itself!

Rejoice with glitters of ashes tonight Sparkling for moon's spiced silver bite Upon skin of darkness, loving night more Storm begins unlocking cold wind's door

She doesn't know where she is going. She doesn't know when the next demons will appear. But she will keep on walking. She will follow the moon.

She had a new secret, the strenght of the moon, looking at her

Overhead the sliver of a moon barely illuminated anything and shadows slunk on every corner.

Some say that you should turn your face from the light of the moon. They say it makes you mad. I turn my face towards it and I laugh. Make me mad, I whisper. Go on, make Mina mad. I laugh again. Some people think that she's already mad, I think.

Sometimes, I doubt the courage My bones are made of And then, A breath finds her way in And her way out The half-way-almost-full moon Smiles down; My heart sighs And quietly whispers: I remember.

Success is the moon and happiness is moonlight.

Tane used to say that her soul was made of sunshine and her eyes shown with moonlight

The bluish, pale face of the house rises above me like a wall of ice and the distant, solitary barking of an owl floats toward me. I half close my eyes. Over the damp dark of the garden flowers swing back and forth like small balloons. The solemn trees, each buried in a cloud of leaves, seem lost in sleep. It is late. I like in the grass, smoking, feeling at ease, pretending the end will be like this. Moonlight falls on my flesh. A breeze circles my wrist. I drift. I shiver. I know that soon the day will come to wash away the moon's white stain, that I shall walk in the morning sun invisible as anyone.

The full Moon's light poured into the room like a stroke from a wide paintbrush...

The dancing Sun the dancing moon the dancing stars and the dancing galaxies are the direct expression of our divine Self.

Their wedding night was in all truth a thing of beauty: the splendor of the celebrations, the hushed intimacy of a private walk under the cryptic light of a large moon, the unexpected delight discovered in the reflection of a candle's flicker in a decanter of aged wine, finally the silent weeping in each other's arms through a night that seemed infinite in its innumerable dimensions.

The meeting of the two lonely souls is the meeting of the dark sea with the moonlight.

The moon was low but not full. The men set out along the dock in conversation. As they dropped onto the dark beach, Simmons declared, ‘There can be no better place in the world than this.’ Henderson had to agree. The beach was beautiful. The stars lit the sand and balmy air rode in as the waves washed up on paradise

The night was nippy and a few stars were out, dimmed by the grin of a crescent moon.

She was so pale she could have been moonlight.

The missions were always changing- sometimes collecting jars of rain, paper bags of hiccups, adopting lost moonbeams and folding them into cake batter. Or perhaps investigating glittering slug trails left in the moonlight, finding the owners of abandoned buttons, or playing the sousaphone for caterpillars still in their cocoons.

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

[The moon] ... is an example of practiced stability … it wanes when it must, and reliably returns to full strength … it is a humble model of reasonable potential that I can emulate, and follow.

The moonlight gave us courage and the fire made us rebels.

The moonlight covered the tombstones with an ethereal glow, and the statues above the tombs stood like silent guards waiting for something to happen.

The moon was coming slowly up over the hill in front of them. The countryside was bathed in light, pale and cold and silvery. Everything could be seen quite plainly, and Lotta and Jimmy thought it was just like daytime with the colours missing.

The moon was up now and the trees were dark against it, and he passed the frame houses with their narrow yards, light coming from the shuttered windows; the unpaved alleys, with their double rows of houses; Conch town, where all was starched, well-shuttered, virtue, failure, grit and boiled grunts, under-nourishment, prejudice, righteousness, inter-breeding and the comforts of religion; the open-doored, lighted Cuban boilto houses, shacks whose only romance was their names

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 seems unaware of night's dark hitting on the damp warm rain misguiding owl's spitting A thunder light of love raising hearts beating while weather learns more from rain lovers meeting

There is a moon, that rests in the quiet corners of a lover’s lips.

There was something in the moonlight tonight. It was stroking the stonework and spires, leaning into cracks between the cobblestones, caressing the stained-glass windows. She felt her heart lift with magic.

There was something of the wildwood in the man who came and went illusive as moonlight moving through the branches.

The sharp light of the stars and moon sliced away her misconceptions and pared down their layers until the feelings that had always existed between them lay bare.

This time, I wanted to enjoy the passion that burned between us until we were both about to combust.

Walking under Dusk, Moonlit leaf shadows were cast on my skin from the trees above, every step I took was taking a step deeper into magic. Silent whispers of mystical mouthes pulling me in deeper. Then the lights from inside the house turned on. A few seconds later, the fence lights went on. Just like that, the leafy ghosts on my skin ran away and the faery voices ran home. It seems like the creations of man kill magic in so many ways— even the light bulb does this! Oh to be a race of people designing magical things, if someone could capture pieces of Moonlight and place it in a jar; or other things like that, then we could stop killing the magic and be filled with it instead. Or maybe we are already always filled with it. It's the bringing out that we have trouble with. Stop being a doorknob, darling! Be magical, instead!

We are born to kiss the stars and dance with the Moon.

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

When the wolf howls and the moon dims hope fades with the waning light. Evil lurks at every turn as shadows waltz across the ebony night. Behold the midnight hour where all of reason takes flight.

With skin dressed only in moonlight, she beckons you to her secret garden.

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 need a poetic touch from the outer space? Then you need the moonlight!

Your eyes have the colour of the moon,

Don't blame it on the sunshine. Don't blame it on the moonlight. Blame it on the boogie.

He who would see old Hoghton right Must view it by the pale moonlight.

How bright and transparent the moonlight of wisdom.

I am a fruitarian and I will only eat leaves picked by virgins in the moonlight - Steve Jobs