Quotes About Evening

I'm always designing for that sort of dressed-up woman who likes to go to different occasions, who's career focused, but she entertains in the evening... a very sophisticated-feeling working woman who likes to have fun.

The air held the sweet night like a sponge.

Then it's not,' says I, 'and we're after having a pleasant evening, Miss Flynn. Have ye seen the sights of this new Coney Island, then? I presume ye have come here for that purpose,' says I.

Turn up the lights. I don't want to go home in the dark.

It was that time of the evening when Beit Jala willed itself to cool down: the land breathed, the sun dipped, the birds rose, the hills took on a sudden burst of dark green.

Evening. The dead sheathed in the earth's crust and turning the slow diurnal of the earth's wheel, at peace with eclipse, asteroid, the dusty novae, their bones brindled with mold and the celled marrow going to frail stone, turning, their fingers laced with root, at one with Tut and Agamemnon, with the seed and the unborn.

They rode out on the north road as would parties bound for El Paso but before they were even quite out of sight of the city they had turned their tragic mounts to the west and they rode infatuate and half fond toward the red demise of that day, toward the evening lands and the distant pandemonium of the sun.

O akÅŸam ateÅŸ ba??nda oturdular ve oÄŸlan s?cak çorba içti ve adam sopalarda buharlar? tüten giysilerini çevirdi ve oÄŸlan mahcup olana kadar oturup onu izledi. Beni izlemekten vazgeç, baba, dedi. Tamam. Gene de izledi ama.

before they were even quite out of sight of the city they had turned their tragic mounts to the west and they rode infatuate and half fond toward the red demise of that day, toward the evening lands and the distant pandemonium of the sun.

Evening. The dead sheathed in the earth's crust and turning the slow diurnal of the earth's wheel, at peace with eclipse, asteroid, the dusty novae, their bones brindled with mold and the celled marrow going to frail stone, turning, their fingers laced with roots, at one with Tut and Agamemnon, with the seed and the unborn.

Avevamo tutti l'aspetto di cadaveri: perché nulla fa pensare tanto a un morto quanto un uomo vestito da sera in pieno giorno.

When I write after dark the shades of evening scatter their purple through my prose.

The wood was silent, still and secret in the evening drizzle of rain, full of the mystery of eggs and half-open buds, half unsheathed flowers. In the dimness of it all trees glistened naked and dark as if they had unclothed themselves, and the green things on earth seemed to hum with greenness.

Firing the sunset gun

It's an interesting age you will live in — though I can't say I'm sorry to miss it. But it should be quite a sight, the going under of the evening land. That's us all right. And I can tell you, my young friend, it is evening. It is very late.

At dusk each evening, Mrs. Tingley, Grandma's third-floor tenant, clip-clopped down the side steps with her bug-eyed Chihuahua, Cutie Pie. "Come on, Cutie Pie, go poopy

Love came easy, but it just wasn't for me. It flew away like swallows on a summer evening. Love sang softly, but it just wasn't to me. Was I a fool to give my love, to give my soul, and more away? My heart aches with longing, cries each night, As I just fall apart. —Carmen, singing Love Has Flown Away

It was the fact that he and his friends had a car, unlike the group she had originally planned to go out with that evening.

As the evening droned on, Einstein turned to a Dutch diplomat seated next to him and said, "I've just developed a new theory of eternity.

Los atardeceres eran increíbles. Algunos días solían ser morados y rosas, otros días era como un abrasador naranja prendiéndole fuego a las nubes en el horizonte. -Juli

Deep into the evening, some Tigers gave brief, funny talks and the entire assemblage joined in a rendition of "Michigan, My Michigan.

Can't you see me as king of the Hereford ranchers, Lucy?" "Oh, I can see you, all right... I can see you riding out on your beautiful palomino checking the herd... There you sit, silhouetted against the evening sky... Sucking your thumb and holding that stupid blanket!

War The trembling finger of a woman Goes down the list of casualties On the evening of the first snow. The house is cold and the list is long. All our names are included.

What we are given in dreams we write as blue paint, Or messages to the clouds. At evening we wait for the rain to fall and the sky to clear. Our words are words for the clay, uttered in undertones, Our gestures salve for the wind. We sit out on the earth and stretch our limbs, Hoarding the little mounds of sorrow laid up in our hearts. —Charles Wright, closing lines to "Homage to Paul Cézanne," The Southern Cross: Poems (Random House, 1981)