Quotes About Moonlight

I had a strong visceral reaction to the 'Moonlight' script, partly because I felt I knew all of these characters.

But in the moonlight they were little more than silhouettes. A reflection of her life. A mere shadow of what she'd expected it to be.

Under every full moon, a woolgathering world idles.

The crickets still sing in October. And lilly, she's trying to bloom. Tho she's resting her head on the shoulder of death, she still shines by the light of the moon.

It was not the sun, but the moonlight that shimmered in the garden, edging the leaves with silver and touching the outlines of the statuary figures.

We turned into the rose garden where the pruned bushes appeared as piles of dead twigs, but the elaborate borders of box that surrounded them in sinuous Elizabethan patterns twisted in and out of the moonlight, showing here silver, there black. A dozen times I would have lingered—a single ivy leaf turned at an angle to catch the moonlight perfectly; a sudden view of the great oak tree, etched with inhuman clarity against the pale sky—but I could not stop.

He said, The word for moonlight is moonlight.

He said, The word for moonlight is moonlight. This made her happy. It was logically complex and oddly moving and circularly beautiful and true - or maybe not so circular but straight as straight can be.

I moonlight, except there's nothing I'm moonlighting from. Moonlight is all that's out there.

I moonlight except that there's nothing I'm moonlighting from. Moonlight is all that's out there.

Over the sward and low grounds a thin film of mist was stealing like smoke, marking the distances with a transparent veil; and here and there we could see the river faintly flashing in the moonlight.

Hail, O Dyonisius! Hail! Winged Son of Semelé! Hail, O Hail! The stars are pale. Hidden the moonlight in the vale; Hidden the sunlight in the sea. - Orpheus.

Walking in the dark streets of Seoul under the almost full moon. Lost for the last two hours. Finishing a loaf of bread and worried about the curfew. I have not spoken for three days and I am thinking, "Why not just settle for love? Why not just settle for love instead?

There was something in the moonlight tonight. It was stroking the stonework and spires, leaning into cracks between the cobblestones, caressing the stained-glass windows. She felt her heart lift with magic.

At least, that had been what he had thought until the night he had lost himself to Legna's wicked eyes. He had blamed it on the moon, reaffirming the weakness to himself later on when he found himself stalking the halls of Noah's home far oftener than could be explained away, always watching as Legna floated from one room to another, seemingly oblivious to him, never remaining in his sight for more than a minute at a time.

Electricity was a part of the world from its creation, and therefore my Electra is as old as Daylight or Moonlight, and equally beneficent to mortals and fairies alike.

The moonlight shone with exceeding lustre through the tall casements and lit into a ghastly semblance of life the marble images of saint and martyr, that threw their long shadows over the consecrated floor.

He looked different in sleep, beautiful but cold as moonlight. I found myself wishing he would wake so that I might watch the life return.

He looked different in sleep, beautiful but cold as moonlight.

There are faces made for moonlight. There are faces created to respond to the wind. There are faces for sandy deserts, for lonely seashores, for solitary headlands, for misty dawns, for frosty midnights. Cordelia's face was made for rain.

Under the silver nailparing of a moon. I felt, though without any melancholy at all, that sense of existential solitude, the being and being alone in a universe, that still nights sometimes give.

Totul s-a întâmplat din cauza muzicii. VariaÈ›iunile Goldberg. Spre fârÈ™it, una din ele, foarte lent?. foarte simpl?, foarte trist?, a fost atât de frumoas?, încât nici cuvintele, nici desenul, nici chiar altceva nu o pot descrie, ci numai muzica. Frumoas? în lumina lunii. Muzica lunii, atât de argintie, atât de îndep?rtat?, atât de nobil?.

Upon the honey'd middle of the night

O magic sleep! O comfortable bird, That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind Till it is hush'd and smooth! O unconfin'd Restraint! imprisoned liberty! great key To golden palaces, strange minstrelsy, Fountains grotesque, new trees, bespangled caves, Echoing grottos, full of tumbling waves And moonlight; aye, to all the mazy world 460 Of silvery enchantment!–who, upfurl'd Beneath thy drowsy wing a triple hour, But renovates and lives?–