Quotes About Moon

What I hope to convey with From the Earth to the Moon is what Andy's captured so well in this book—just how magnificent an undertaking Apollo really was. That going to the moon was not just a technological endeavor, but an artistic one, like Michelangelo's frescoes on the Sistine Chapel ceiling.

he had found the courage once in his life to seize a chance at love from a person who knew how to give it. Lena prayed on these two moons that she would find that same courage.

A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

And aye, beside her stalks her amarous knight! Still on his thighs their wonted brogues are worn, And thro' those brogues, still tatter'd and betorn, His hindward charms glean an unearthly white, Ah! thus thro' broken clouds at night's high Noon Peeps in fair fragments forth the full-orb'd harvest-moon!

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

Fragment 6" The Moon, how definite its orb! Yet gaze again, and with a steady gaze— 'Tis there indeed,—but where is it not?— It is suffused o'er all the sapphire Heaven, Trees, herbage, snake-like stream, unwrinkled Lake, Whose very murmur does of it partake And low and close the broad smooth mountain Is more a thing of Heaven than when Distinct by one dim shade and yet undivided from the universal cloud In which it towers, finite in height.

Then my tears come blinding, and he lead me by the arm. I stumble in the elevator, thinking of that moon rain. Salt that last forever, grief that live beyond all life.

The gleaming stars all about the shining moon Hide their bright faces, when full-orbed and splendid In the sky she floats, flooding the shadowed earth with clear silver light.

As impossible, in fact, as keeping the moon...So I looked down the line at all my friends, knowing I would always remember this. And then I turned my gaze back up to the sky, and put my faith in that moon and its return.

Together, we looked down at the tiny house, the sole thing on this vast, flat surface. Like the only person living on the moon. It could be either lonely or peaceful, depending on how you looked at it. It's a start, I said.

It wasn't morning. The room was dark, with the moon big and yellow and hanging just where I'd left it in the corner of the window.

This is what it is to love an artist: The moon is always rising above your house. The houses of your neighbors look dull and lacking in moonlight. But he is always going away from you. Inside his head there is always something more beautiful.

We claim the present as the pre-sent, as the hereafter. We are unraveling our navels so that we may ingest the sun. We are not afraid of the darkness, we trust that the moon shall guide us. We are determining the future at this very moment. We now know that the heart is the philosophers' stone. Our music is our alchemy...

O, may you look, full moon that shines, On my pain for this last time: So many midnights from my desk, I have seen you, keeping watch: When over my books and paper, [390] Saddest friend, you appear! Ah! If on the mountain height I might stand in your sweet light, Float with spirits in mountain caves, Swim the meadows in twilight' waves, [395] Free from the smoke of knowledge too, Bathe in your health-giving dew!

Herrlich glänzte der Mond, der volle, vom Himmel herunter;

Blonde: A word sir, Have you got a cure For freckles? They come out all over In the summer. Mephistopheles: Ah, Summer speckles, Dotted like a tabby cat. Take an extract Of toad-tongue, Boil with frog spawn At dawn, And spread upon your skin When the moon is thin And waning.

Like some winter animal the moon licks the salt of your hand, Yet still your hair foams violet as a lilac tree From which a small wood-owl calls.

There brews He beautiful water! And beautiful it always is! You see it glistening in the dewdrop; you hear it singing in the summer rain; you see it sparkling in the ice gem when the trees seem loaded with rich jewels!... dancing in the hailstorm, leaping, foaming, dashing...! See how it weaves a golden gauze for the setting sun, and a silvery tissue for the midnight moon!

He who marvels at the beauty of the world in summer will find equal cause for wonder and admiration in winter.... In winter the stars seem to have rekindled their fires, the moon achieves a fuller triumph, and the heavens wear a look of a more exalted simplicity.

In winter the stars seem to have rekindled their fires, the moon achieves a fuller triumph, and the heavens wear a look of a more exalted simplicity.

Scientists believe they may have discovered a primitive form of life on Jupiter's moon Europa. That primitive form of life? You guessed it, Frank Stallone.

Think'st thou I'd make a life of jealousy, To follow still the changes of the moon With fresh suspicions? No; to be once in doubt Is once to be resolved.

To-night when the full-bellied moon swallows the stars. Grant that I know.

When the moon shines very brilliantly, a solitude and stillness seem to proceed from her that influence even crowded places full of life.