Quotes About Sun

Every planet was a god, interested and vital in the affairs of men: Jupiter was Marduk, Mercury was Nabu, Mars was Nergal, the sun was Shamash, the moon was Sin, Saturn was Ninib, Venus was Ishtar.

If the Sun and Moon should ever doubt, they'd immediately go out.

The sun does arise, And make happy the skies. The merry bells ring To welcome the spring. The skylark and thrush, The birds of the bush, Sing louder around, To the bells' cheerful sound, While our sports shall be seen On the echoing green.

To the eyes of a miser a guinea is more beautiful than the sun.

Terrified at Non Existence, for such they deemd the death of the body, Los his vegetable hands outstretch'd; his right hand branching out in fibrous Strength siez'd the Sun; his left hand like dark roots cover'd the Moon, and tore them down, cracking the heavens across from immense to immense.

and so by your love the very sun itself is revived

The province of the poem is the world. When the sun rises, it rises in the poem and when it sets darkness comes down and the poem is dark

The province of the poem is the world. When the sun rises, it rises in the poem and when it sets darkness comes down and the poem is dark . and lamps are lit, cats prowl and men read, read–or mumble and stare at that which their small lights distinguish or obscure or their hands search out in the dark. The poem moves them or it does not move them. Faitoute, his ears ringing . no sound . no great city, as he seems to read–

The sun, an hour above the horizon, is poised like a bloody egg upon a crest of thunderheads; the light has turned copper: in the eye portentous, in the nose sulphurous, smelling of lightning.

Men have been pacifists for every reason under the sun except to avoid danger and fighting.

Holy things and holy places, out of mind under the cauterizing brilliance of the summer son, reared up now as the winter sun struck from the south, casting shadows coldly upon the avenues where the people followed and went in, wearing winter hearts on their sleeves for the plucking.

The lust of summer gone, the sun made its visits shorter and more uncertain, appearing to the city with that discomfited reserve that sense of duty of the lover who no longer loves.

Between the trees, on gentle and too cleverly irregular slopes of sweet green grass, the bright umbrellas shaded the hotel's guests from the unfaltering radiance of the Lado-Acheson sun.

The sun was bright and danger had faded with the darkness.

Perhaps the window is not a sun but an asterisk, interrupting the grammar of the sky, with me sitting below it like a footnote.

We speak now or I do, and others do. You've never spoken before. You will. You'll be able to say how the city is a pit and a hill and a standard and an animal that hunts and a vessel on the sea and the sea and how we are fish in it, not like the man who swims weekly with fish but the fish with which he swims, the water, the pool. I love you, you light me, warm me, you are suns. You have never spoken before.

Hold the sadness and pain of samsara in your heart and at the same time the power and vision of the Great Eastern Sun. Then the warrior can make a proper cup of tea.

Fer shure, dudette.

She felt excited for no particular reason, in anticipation of exactly what she wasn't sure. It was sort of like everything - the rumble of the boat, the ocean spray that misted her face, the sight of Venice receding in the distance and the warm, bright morning sun that promised a day filled with possibility - contained in this one moment held all the best moments of all the best summer days she'd ever known.

Words of praise, indeed, are almost as necessary to warm a child into a genial life as acts of kindness and affection. Judicious praise is to children what the sun is to flowers.

Dusk softens the sharp points of trees outside my window; the sky slowly darkens, then blackens around an orb of moon. Hours later, a faint blue tinge yields to the soft pastels of dawn, and soon enough sun is streaming in, the stop-start rhythm of the train making it all feel like still photography, thousands of images that taken together create a scene in motion.

The brilliant blue of the morning sky has faded, as if left out too long in the sun.

If all were rain and never sun, No bow could span the hill; If all were sun and never rain There'd be no rainbow still.

Fly away, fly away over the sea, Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done; Come again, come again, come back to me, Bringing the summer and bringing the sun.