Best 135 quotes in «moonlight quotes» category

Fire and ice licked at his soul—whispered his name—drawing him deeper into the enveloping pain and blackness as he’d dreamed earlier. He suddenly wished to return to the rippling stream. The water would wash away the blistering pain…the fire…the burn. He’d wade deeper…submit to the current… He’d let go…

I do not want to sleep for fear I might miss the twinkle of the brightest star for fear I may never know how the moon glimmers, in the darkest hour.

going out late at night and laying in the dewy field and reading a Kurt Vonnegut book by moonlight.

How lucky our world is to have the Moon! How lucky we humans are to have the Moon! And finally how lucky our Moon is to have a view of the deep blue Earth!

I can’t imagine anything nicer than to sit out in the moonlight and listen to music—

I find joy and magic in every drop of moonlight. I hear songs of love in every glint of a star.

I love to close my eyes a moment and think of the land outside, white under the mingled snow and moonlight--the heaps of stones by the roadside white--snow in the furrows. Mon Dieu! How quiet and how patient!

From the vast, invisible ocean of moonlight overhead fell, here and here, a slender, broken stream that seemed to plash against the intercepting branches and trickle to earth, forming small white pools among the clumps of laurel. But these leaks were few and served only to accentuate the blackness of his environment, which his imagination found it easy to people with all manner of unfamiliar shapes, menacing, uncanny, or merely grotesque. He to whom the portentous conspiracy of night and solitude and silence in the heart of a great forest is not an unknown experience needs not to be told what another world it all is - how even the most commonplace and familiar objects take on another character. The trees group themselves differently; they draw closer together, as if in fear. The very silence has another quality than the silence of the day. And it is full of half-heard whispers, whispers that startle - ghosts of sounds long dead. There are living sounds, too, such as are never heard under other conditions: notes of strange night birds, the cries of small animals in sudden encounters with stealthy foes, or in their dreams, a rustling in the dead leaves - it may be the leap of a wood rat, it may be the footstep of a panther. What caused the breaking of that twig? What the low, alarmed twittering in that bushful of birds? There are sounds without a name, forms without substance, translations in space of objects which have not been seen to move, movements wherein nothing is observed to change its place. Ah, children of the sunlight and the gaslight, how little you know of the world in which you live! ("A Tough Tussle")

Give me a moon-blanket night to keep me warm a long-gone smile to comfort me a pair of rain-blue eyes to haunt me a simple soul ...to love me.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here will we sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins; Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it." - Lorenzo, Acte V, Scene 1

If the Moon wants to show its beauty to the world, it must make a deal with the wind to disperse the clouds!

I get a little poetic sometimes. The moonlight does that to me.

I kept staring at the moon. I'm not sure if its light was good or evil. I thought it might not be either. The moon just shines with the light of chaos. Mysteriously. Brightly. That must not be either good or evil. Just as the rules of this world are not all good.

In the moonlight the fine geishalike skin took on the luster of a seashell.

In the sallow afternoon, I watched her get dressed.

I see you better in music, I hear you better in wind, I feel you more in a flooding moonlight, that understands nothing, but darkness and silence.

I slept under the moonlight and set my soul free, caged within jars like fireflies".

Isn't the color of moonlight the best color ever?

It’s the beating of my heart. The way I lie awake, playing with shadows slowly climbing up my wall. The gentle moonlight slipping through my window and the sound of a lonely car somewhere far away, where I long to be too, I think. It’s the way I thought my restless wandering was over, that I’d found whatever I thought I had found, or wanted, or needed, and I started to collect my belongings. Build a home. Safe behind the comfort of these four walls and a closed door. Because as much as I tried or pretended or imagined myself as a part of all the people out there, I was still the one locking the door every night. Turning off the phone and blowing out the candles so no one knew I was home. ’cause I was never really well around the expectations of my personality and I wanted to keep to myself. and because I haven’t been very impressed lately. By people, or places. Or the way someone said he loved me and then slowly changed his mind.

I often want to drink a cup of moonlight so that I may calm my heart and soothe my mind.

It was too dark to see but I froze in the glow of bright grey eyes that almost appeared white in the moonlight.

it was the kind of moon that I would want to send back to my ancestors and gift to my descendants so they know that I too, have been bruised...by beauty.

It will not hurt me when I am old, A running tide where moonlight burned Will not sting me like silver snakes; The years will make me sad and cold, It is the happy heart the breaks. The hearts asks more than life can give, When that is learned, then all is learned; The waves break fold on jewelled fold, But beauty itself is fugitive, It will not hurt me when I am old.

I walked with my eyes on the path, but out of the corners of them I saw a man hiding behind an olive tree. He did not move as we approached, but I fell that he was watching us. As soon as we had passed I heard a scamper. Wilson, like a hunted animal, had made for safely. That was the last I ever saw of him. He died last year. He had endured that life for six years. He was found one morning on the mountainside lying quite peacefully as though he had died in his sleep. From where he lay he had been able to see those two great rocks called the Faraglioni which stand out of the sea. It was full moon and he must have gone to see them by moonlight. Perhaps he died of the beauty of that sight... ---The Lotus Eater

i want to be in love with you the same way i am in love with the moon with the light shining out of its soul.

I want to take you under the moonlight.

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.

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.

Midnight sail and moonlight. I remember sunset, and gentle breeze. Leaving the city lights behind, and gazing at the moon. Mountains of clouds. Waves slapping our boat. It was easy to forget that love has no direction, or need for compass. Let it guide you to its destination. ~ Fidelis O Mkparu, 2016

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 is the light from a lantern in heaven

moonlight disappears down the hills mountains vanish into fog and i vanish into poetry.

Moonlight does things to a street scene that no other natural or man-made phenomenon can effect. People walk slower, their smiles lingering on contended faces. Horses that usually move along fast enough to stir up the dust off the street plod lazily in the clear, cool night. And in dark corners where people forget to look, the goons come out.

Moonlight signifies a time when there is hope in darkness, but you have to focus on that hope.

In the deep dark silence, my mind dances with the moonlight and feels the joy of this precious ephemeral life.

...Moonlight possesses no alchemy to transmute good motives to base, but it does excite love magic...

Negativity may misguide a person to see daylight as moonlight; and then he goes to sleep instead of rising up to work. No every irresponsible act is caused by laziness; negative attitudes take a bigger share!

Night is my time...am not a vampire but i am a Night Rider....!

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

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.

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

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

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

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

¿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.

Perhaps everything can be solved by a walk in moonlight.

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

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.

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