Quotes About Moon

Nothing touches your skin of sweat(meltdown of oceanic kisses)when the purple lightwhispers to the moon in silent moonlit clarity

You are too bright, my Camille, too beautiful for so much darkness. And yet, you would walk under the dark of the moon

We sat grown quiet at the name of love. We saw the last embers of daylight die And in the trembling blue-green of the sky A moon, worn as if it had been a shell Washed by time's waters as they rose and fell About the stars and broke in days and years.

When have I last looked on The round green eyes and the long wavering bodies Of the dark leopards of the moon? All the wild witches, those most noble ladies, For all their broom-sticks and their tears, Their angry tears, are gone.

Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon, For, wander and wail as he would, The pure cold light in the sky Troubled his animal blood.

Children mark the eras of my life and the eras of Jerusalem with moon chalk on the street. God's hand in the world.

The moon climbed out of the ravine, blue, skinny, as if it had been fed on nothing but skimmed milk. It climbed out, and quickly slithered up and up along the finest thread-away from trouble, and on the very top it huddled, crouching on thin legs. ("The Protectress Of Sinners")

The moon, our own, earthly moon is bitterly lonely, because it is alone in the sky, always alone, and there is no one to turn to, no one to turn to it. All it can do is ache across the weightless airy ice, across thousands of versts, toward those who are equally lonely on earth, and listen to the endless howling of dogs. ("A Story About The Most Important Thing")

Amid the moon and the stars, amid the clouds of the night, amid the hills which bordered on the sky with their magnificent silhouette of pointed cedars, amid the speckled patches of the moon, amid the temple buildings that emerged sparkling white out of the surrounding darkness - amid all this, I was intoxicated by the pellucid beauty of Uiko's treachery.

The moon hangs alien, heavy, like a lock on a door; the door is tightly shut.

The moon, our own, earthly moon is bitterly lonely, because it is alone in the sky, always alone, and there is no one to turn to, no one to turn to it. All it can do is ache across the weightless airy ice, across thousands of versts, toward those who are equally lonely on earth, and listen to the endless howling of dogs.

The moon climbed out of the ravine, blue, skinny, as if it had been fed on nothing but skimmed milk. It climbed out, and quickly slithered up and up along the finest thread--away from trouble, and on the very top it huddled, crouching on thin legs.

The sky lay over the city like a map showing the strata of things and the big full moon toppled over in a furrow like the abandoned wheel of a gun carriage on a sunset field of battle and the shadows walked like cats and I looked into the white and ghostly interior of things and thought of you and I looked on their structural outsides and thought of you and was lonesome.

A southern moon is a sodden moon, and sultry. When it swamps the fields and the rustling sandy roads and the sticky honeysuckle hedges in its sweet stagnation, your fight to hold on to reality is like a protestation against a first waft of ether.

The night is forever. I can't sleep. The clear moon is so bright, so bright. I almost think I hear a voice call me, and to the empty sky say, Yes?

Success is the moon and happiness is moonlight.

The moon is beautiful only when the mind is seeking beauty and the heart is loving.

The moon is the reflection of your heart and moonlight is the twinkle of your love.

If you can see the moon, you can gaze at her and blow her a kiss.

Anybody spending $40 billion in a race to the moon for national prestige is nuts,' declared Eisenhower.

The moon is made round by the right hand of God. The moon is made crescent by His left. But it is God's heart that makes my love for you forever.

There's in my mind a... turbulent moon-ridden girl or old woman, or both, dressed in opals and rags, feathers and torn taffeta, who knows strange songs but she is not kind.

The yellow moon dreamily tipping buttons of light down among the leaves. Marimba, marimba - from beyond the black street. Somebody dancing, somebody getting the hell outta here. Shadows of cats weave round the treetrunks, the exposed knotty roots. ("Scenes from the Life of the Peppertrees")

Ignorance is the night of the mind, but a night without moon or star.