Quotes About Evening

That evening remains for me always a moment to cherish, as golden and fragrant as brandy in crystal glasses.

happiness has no frontiers, that it's a state of mind and not a possession, not a set route through life, not a goal to be gained but something that steals in gently like an evening mist or the morning sunlight—something beyond our control.

Night came early to this neighborhood, the sun fleeing the sky, leaving heaven black and blue.

Ampia e gialla è la luce della sera E tenera è di aprile la frescura, tu sei in ritardo ormai di molti anni, eppure di vederti sono lieta.

hurry through the evening's last light to the homeplace, where the blind

disoriented. It was our house. He had stood on a porch and taken the snapshot through a window. I recognized the fireplace and its graceful mantel. And the chandelier! We had dined each evening at seven, the family together, discussing our day—we could have

Indeed if one had just seen him at the end of the evening with the dusk and the mist of the fenlands close behind him he might have believed that in the dusk and the mist was an army that followed this gay worn confident man. Had the army been there Niv was sane. Had the world accepted that an army was there, still he was sane. But the lonely fancy that had not fact to feed on, nor the fancy of any other for fellowship, was for its loneliness mad.

And then he went in the evening up to the nursery and told the boy how his mother was gone for a while to Elfland, to her father's palace (which may only be told of in song). And, unheeding any words of Orion then, he held on with the brief tale that he had come to tell, and told how Elfland was gone. But that cannot be, said Orion, for I hear the horns of Elfland every day. You can hear them? Alveric said. And the boy replied, I hear them blowing at evening.

He asked her what she was doing there, on the heath with her broom in the evening. Sweeping the world, she said. And Alveric wondered what rejected things she was sweeping away from the world, with grey dust mournfully turning over and over as it drifted across our fields, going slowly into the darkness that was gathering beyond our coasts. Why are you sweeping the world, Mother Witch? he said. There's things in the world that ought not to be here, said she.

Fame as she walked at evening in a city saw the painted face of Notoriety flaunting beneath a gas-lamp, and many kneeled unto her in the dirt of the road. Who are you? Fame said to her. I am Fame, said Notoriety. Then Fame stole softly away so that no one knew she had gone. And Notoriety presently went forth and all her worshippers rose and followed after, and she led them, as was most meet, to her native Pit.

For if old women gossiping at evening as the ages go by, spin wisdom as the spider in old barns spins gossamer, then Mrs. Tichener had a great store of wisdom, in which little ancient facts were caught up as is dust in the spider's web. And if these things are all vanity, what are we?

pero de pronto me abrumó la idea de salir a la calle, de pisar de nuevo la ciudad a esa hora sucia del atardecer, hora perdida de pasos perdidos, hora inútil.

HE felt so tired that he felt almost like lying down there where he was in the warm sunshine just waiting until someone showed up but then he thought he did not know long a day was a summer day in England and how soon afternoon and evening would arrive and he didn't want to find himself on the street when it got dark.

Now Rann the Kite brings home the night

It was seven o'clock of a very warm evening in the Seeonee hills when Father Wolf woke up from his day's rest, scratched himself, yawned, and spread out his paws one after the other to get rid of the sleepy feeling in their tips.

But that evening, I didn't hear anything, just the lady typing, which sounded like raindrops or starlings or pebbles being washed up on the beach by the waves. It was a nice sound, soothing, and pretty soon I just dozed off.

The feeling that the world was at my feet and the feeling that I alone was cut off from the world, the sense of power and the anxiety, had both stayed with me ever since that evening at the pond.

Here is an oral tradition, legends passed from mouth to mouth, a communal myth created invariably at the base of the mango tree in the evening's profound darkness, in which only the trembling voices of old men resound, because the women and children are silent, raptly listening. That is what the evening hour is so important: it is the time when the community contemplates what it is and whence it came.

Here is an oral tradition, legends passed from mouth to mouth, a communal myth created invariably at the base of the mango tree in the evening's profound darkness, in which only the trembling voices of old men resound, because the women and children are silent, raptly listening. That is why the evening hour is so important: it is the time when the community contemplates what it is and whence it came.

When I get up in the morning, I go right back to bed again. I feel best in the evening the moment I put out the light and pull the feather-bed over my head. I sit up once more, look around the room with indescribable satisfaction, and then good night, down under the feather-bed.

When I get up in the morning I go straight back to bed again. I feel best in the evening, the moment I dowse the candle, pull the eiderdown over my head. I raise myself up once more, look about the room with an indescribable peace of mind, and then it's goodnight, down under the eiderdown.

And now that we have introduced her and set her in some sort of context, let us leave her to sip her evening drink and await her dinner guests, while we retreat into the privacy of these pages to tell her tale.

As the evening beckons with the promise of tomorrow... may your gratitude rise up and with strength answer, "yes."

But what shall we read? Oh, said Rosa, I have a book, - a book which I hope will bring us good fortune. Tomorrow, then. Yes, tomorrow. On the following evening Rosa returned with Cornelius de Witt's Bible.