Quotes About Moonlight

Mandred leaned against an outcrop of rock to catch his breath. He'd come halfway, and he cast his eyes back to the edge of the forest. The darkness of the woods had barely allowed the green faerylight to penetrate, but there on the mountainside, everything was as plain to see as on a cloudless night under a full moon.

And then, standing among the trunks of the fruit trees, silver-grey in the moonlight, I recalled that the way to banish an old ghost that continues its hauntings is to exorcise it. Well then, mine should be exorcised. I should tell my tale, not aloud, by the fireside, not as a diversion for idle listeners – it was too solemn, and too real, for that. But I should set it down on paper, with every care and in every detail. I would write my own ghost story.

The moonlight streaming through the sheer draperies revealed Taylor smiling, boneless and peaceful in Will's embrace. The most dangerous man Will knew rested sweetly in his arms, trusting him with his love as he trusted Will to guard his life. It was beyond precious. Life, love, was made up of fragile moments like these. Fragile as Paris moonlight.

Mångata. Em sueco, o reflexo da Lua que forma uma estrada na água.

Dime, chico... ¿Has bailado con el demonio a la pálida luz de la luna? JACK NAPIER

He could just barely make out her form in the path about ten yards ahead of him. Her hair was so fair it captured what little moonlight hung in the darkness and glowed like a halo.

Victor's beast leaned toward me and licked my cheek once more—a goodbye kiss. I smelled the warm fur and musk scent that was at once and entirely Victor and saw the moonlight reflected in his scarlet eyes. Then he rushed away into the underbrush, nearly silent despite his huge bulk, and disappeared.

También yo quiero dejarte si pienso como se piensa. Pero voy donde tú vas. Tú también. Da un paso. Prueba. Clavos de luna nos funden mi cintura y tus caderas.

ROMANCERO SONÁMBULO VERDE que te quiero verde. Verde viento. Verdes ramas. El barco sobre la mar y el caballo en la montaña. Con la sombra en la cintura, ella sueña en su baranda verde carne, pelo verde, con ojos de fría plata. Verde que te quiero verde. Bajo la luna gitana, las cosas la están mirando y ella no puede mirarlas.

Twas a still, calm night and the moon's pale light Shone over hill and dale When friends mute with grief stood around the deathbed Of their loved, lost Lily Lyle. Heart as pure as forest lily Never knowing guile, Had its home within the bosom Of sweet Lily Lyle.

Evening Star, gold light of Aphrodite born in the foam, Evening Star, holy diamond of the glassblue night, you are dimmer than the moon, brighter than another star. Hello, good friend! I'm on my way to serenade my shepherd love. Give me your rays in place of moonlight. There was a new moon today, but quickly set. I am no thief, no highway man to plague a traveler at night. A lover I am. And those in love must be helped.

The maple-bordered street was as still as a country Sunday; so quiet that there seemed an echo to my footsteps. It was four o'clock in the morning; clear October moonlight misted through the thinning foliage to the shadowy sidewalk and lay like a transparent silver fog upon the house of my admiration, as I strode along, returning from my first night's work on the "Wainwright Morning Despatch.

I must have slept a long time, for when I was punched awake the room was dim with the light of the setting moon. Move over, Scout. He thought he had to. I mumbled. Don't stay mad with him. Dill got in bed beside me. I ain't, he said. I just wanted to sleep with you.

How can the mind be so imperfect? she says with a smile. I look at my hands. Bathed in the moonlight, they seem like statues, proportioned to no purpose. It may well be imperfect, I say, but it leaves traces. And we can follow those traces, like footsteps in the snow. Where do the lead? To oneself, I answer. That's where the mind is. Without the mind, nothing leads anywhere. I look up. The winter moon is brilliant, over the Town, above the Wall. Not one thing is your fault, I comfort her.

Overhead, the two moons worked together to bathe the world in a strange light.

I watched the moon alone, unable to share his cold beauty with anyone.

Aomame raised her glass to the moon and asked, "Have you gone to bed with someone in your arms lately?" The moon did not answer. "Do you have any friends?" she asked. The moon did not answer. "Don't you get tired of always playing it cool?" The moon did not answer.

near them grow dreamlike fairy-tale flowers whose leaves stir in the moonlight.

Love is like moonlight or thunder, or rain on a tin roof in the middle of the night; it is one of those things in life that is truly worth knowing.

the desert, where there is the communal book of moonlight. We were among the rumour of wells. In the palace of winds.

I love the performance of a craft, whether it is modest or mean-spirited, yet I walk away when discussions of it begin - as if one should ask a gravedigger what brand of shovel he uses or whether he prefers to work at noon or in moonlight. I am interested only in the care taken, and those secret rehearsals behind it. Even if I do not understand fully what is taking place.

The noise of the trees, the breaking of moon into silver fish bouncing off the leaves of asters outside.

Some rooms could not be entered because of rubble. One bomb crater allowed moon and rain into the library downstairs—

I thought Love lived in the hot sunshine, But O, he lives in the moony light! I thought to find Love in the heat of day, But sweet Love is the comforter of night.