Quotes About Sun

True love is like the sun, shining with its own light, and offering that light to everyone.

Barrons' lips twitched. I'd almost made him smile. Barrons smiles about as often as the sun comes out in Dublin, and it has the same effect on me; makes me feel warm and stupid.

the sun has always been my drug of choice.

I think something more mysterious might be happening, less articulate than any of the captioned and numeraled drawings in the 'The Spiritist's Telegraph.' Mothers burning inside the risen suns of their children.

The sun is back at its original o'clock.

I came to hate the complainers, with their dry and crumbly lipsticks and their wrinkled rage and their stupid, flaccid, old-people sun hats with brims the breadth of Saturn's rings.

A life without rain is like the sun without shade.

But bad news came at night, as if the sun were already in mourning.

When the sun of culture is low, even dwarves will cast long shadows

I shall be loved as quiet things Are loved--white pigeons in the sun, Curled yellow leaves that whisper down One after one; The silver reticence of smoke That tells no secret of its birth Among the fiery agonies That turn the earth.

His skin was dark, his face tanned, little crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Sun lines, not laugh lines, she was sure. She couldn't imagine the devil captain ever laughing at anything except, perhaps, someone else's pain.

Then, with a stately leap, the sun bounded into the sky, and the whole, messy, beautiful, broken world was stained with fire.

More extraordinarily, scientists suggest that, if undisturbed, the Holocene's benevolent conditions would be likely to continue for another 50,000 years due to the unusually circular orbit that Earth is currently making of the sun

A cosmic philosophy is not constructed to fit a man; a cosmic philosophy is constructed to fit a cosmos. A man can no more possess a private religion than he can possess a private sun and moon.

A crippled child Said, "How shall I dance?" Let your heart dance We said. Then the invalid said: "How shall I sing?" Let your heart sing We said Then spoke the poor dead thistle, "But I, how shall I dance?" Let your heart fly to the wind We said. Then God spoke from above "How shall I descend from the blue?" Come dance for us here in the light We said. All the valley is dancing Together under the sun, And the heart of him who joins us not Is turned to dust, to dust.

The sun is gone; but the Day—still bending over the mountains, loosens a last flower from her plait. And the sky seems now a higher and holier thing.

Hold me, O Night, with motherly affection, While the wan earth wakes with a misty yawn. By my blood will be born the dawn and from my fleeting dream—the undying sun!

He smelled like smoke and laundered sheets left to dry in the sun.

For a moment...for a moment. We are eternal. We are every warrior forced to kill and die for a cause no one will remember in years to come. Every adversary who ever felt blade cleave into bone. Every crimson-stained fighter who died for nothing. I imagine the first beings left here by the gods died thus. And when the sun sets on our race, the last two men will have their brothers' blood on their blades.

The sun, with all those planets revolving around it and dependent on it, can still ripen a bunch of grapes as if it had nothing else in the universe to do.

We've the whole wide world out there waiting for us, and we've forever to make the most've it. And that's the thing: enjoyin' life. Not livin' death, or anything stupid like that. What've we got to fear except the sun?

We were both satellites orbiting Denny's sun, struggling for gravitational supremacy. Of course, she had the advantage of her tongue and her thumbs, and when I watched her kiss and fondle him sometimes she would glance at me and wink as if to gloat: Look at my thumbs! See what they can do!

I remember! This documentary said that after a dog dies, his soul is released into the world around us. His soul is released to run in the wild, run through the fields, enjoy the earth, the wind, the rivers, the rain, the sun, the… It's okay… They will see.

It was a Saturday that you somehow knew was going to be one of the last beautiful days of fall. The sun was shining hot, like it thought it was still July, and November drizzles were a whole season away. The sky was blue and a few white clouds were easing themselves along like they didn't care. The grass was warm and sweet, like April, but the trees hadn't forgotten it was October. They were all on fire, and behind their leaves, the birds were singing their last songs.