Quotes About Moon

I studied a crescent moon hung crooked in a plum purple sky and thought about what it would be like to truly be seen.

But there is the loneliness. The aloneness. How I startle awake in the dark, panicked, full of dread, floating on the night sea on a tiny raft surrounded by all that vast blackness. I see myself from above. The light from the moon guides me nowhere. I'm connected to nothing and no one, lost

It was like noticing the sun. You couldn't help but see it, to turn to face the heat of it, to bask in the glory of it. But often when the sun is high in the sky, the moon is up there, too. A dim memory of what she will be in the night, but there, nonetheless, dim and misty, hard and white. At night, there is only the moon, the sun is nowhere to be seen. There are no distractions when the moon rules the sky.

there is beauty that hits the eye like a bolt of lightning, that burns and sears and blinds. It is more disaster than pleasure. But yours, yours is a beauty that lulls one into comfort, into not protecting one's eyes from the light, then one night you realise that the moon, too, has its beauty.

Where did you live before you came here? I asked. The moon, he said smoothly. We left because the place had no atmosphere.

The dead do walk and haunt and crawl into your bed at night. Ghosts sneak into your head when you're not looking. Stars line up and volcanoes birth out bits of glass that foretell the future. Poison berries make girls stronger, but sometimes kill them. If you howl at the moon and swear on your blood, anything you desire will be yours. Be careful what you wish for. There's always a catch.

The stars whirled above us and the firecrackers blazed. The moon stood watch as drops of blood fell, careless seeds that sizzled in the snow.

The fat, pumpkin-colored moon rose, turning bloodstains into shadows. All of the colors of shirts and jackets and uniforms paled to the same shade of gray.

If you howl at the moon and swear on your own blood, anything you desire will be yours. Be careful what you wish for. There's always a catch.

It isn't August. The moon is asleep and I'm sitting on my porch roof like a frozen gargoyle, wondering if the sun is going to blow off the world today and sleepin.

Where did you live before you came here?" I asked. "The moon," he said smoothly. "We left because the place had no atmosphere.

Slowly the bluish spring moon climbs the houses, sliding up the minarets into the clicking palm-trees, and with it the city seems to uncurl like some hibernating animal dug out of its winter earth, to stretch and begin to drink in the music of the three-day festival.

...Something about, 'I love my dad, I love my dad, makes me feel better when I'm sad ... I love you to the moon and back.

The moon has nothing to be sad about, Staring from her hood of bone. She is used to this sort of thing. Her blacks crackle and drag.

I'm convinced that before the year 2000 is over, the first child will have been born on the moon.

Science flies you to the moon. Religion flies you into buildings.

Scientist alone is true poet he gives us the moon he promises the stars he'll make us a new universe if it comes to that.

'Tis the witching hour of night, Orbed is the moon and bright. And the stars they glisten, glisten, Seeming with bright eyes to listen- For what listen they?

Clouds are like boogers hanging on the nostrils of the moon.

Frequently on the lunar surface I said to myself, 'This is the Moon, that is the Earth. I'm really here, I'm really here!'

And teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night.

The Snow White the midnight the moon tales of the mechanics

The night surrounds, breathes across her skin. They're lost in the shadows of the moon.

I still find the moon more amazing than the fact men have walked on it.