Quotes About Day

Admonished by the sun's inclining ray, And swift approaches of the thievish day, The white-armed Fresca blinks, and yawns, and gapes, Aroused from dreams of love and pleasant rapes.

All in a day's work for the Good Witch.

My darling, my dying, my light, my sight, my night my whole day long.

And toward the evening of the same day, all the world's teletypes received a communication: Death was a result of natural causes. It wasn't said whose death, but the world surmised.

It was deep afternoon when shadows begin to grow, light becomes gold, and you realize that this particular day has reached its destiny. Like old age, it's not yet over, but there's no denying the time of day.

If you have done a hard day's work under a strong sun and then walked six miles the effect of two glasses of port, when the port is good, is such to marvel at.

Il dort. Quoique le sort fut pour lui bien étrange, Il vivait. Il mourut quand il n'eut plus son ange. La choise simplement d'elle-même arriva. Comme la nuit se fait lorsque le jour s'en va. He is asleep. Though his mettle was sorely tried, He lived, and when he lost his angel, died. It happened calmly, on its own. The way night comes when day is done.

Night and the day, when united, Bring forth the beautiful light.

What is fright by night is curiosity by day.

He sleeps. Although his fate was very strange, he lived. He died when he had no longer his angel. The thing came to pass simply, of itself, as the night comes when day is gone.

He sleeps although so much he was denied. He lived and when his dear love left him died. It happened of itself, in the easy way that in the morning night time follows day

The pupil dilates in the night, and at last finds day in it, even as the soul dilates in misfortune, and at last finds God in it.

one felt the sacred intimacy of the birds and the trees; by day the wings rejoice the leaves, by night the leaves protect the wings.

He sleeps, though fate for him was truly odd. He lived. He died when his angel was gone. The thing just happened of its own accord As night comes on when day is gone.

He sleeps. Although his fate was very strange, He lived. He died when he had no longer his angel. The thing came to pass simply, of itself, As the night comes when day is gone. a

Duerme. Y, aunque el destino le dio andadura extraña, vivía. Y se murió cundo perdió a su ángel; sin más, sencillamente, le sucedió ese trance, como llega la noche cuando el día se marcha.

That which is terror by night is curiosity by day.

Dawn. Damn. The universe becomes invisible for another day.

So there is going to be that balance of understanding how to get the best out of the car that day, whether it's 15th or even if I have a shot at a top 10, protecting that car so we can bring it back when we have to.

Few will ever witness an act destined to become legend. How does it happen, that the events of a day, or a night — or a life — are translated into story? There is a gap in between, where awe has carved a space that words have yet to fill.

What a wonderful day it was to get into the outdoors. The sky above the tree branches was blue, dappled by fast-running clouds shifting the autumn sunlight between sharp spangles of yellow light and an amber haze.

A day cannot live in infamy without the nourishment of rage. Let's have rage. What's needed is a unified, unifying, Pearl Harbor sort of purple American fury.

Kissing Simon was pleasant. It was a gentle sort of pleasant, like lying in a hammock on a summer day with a book and a glass of lemonade

Everything is fine and bright. Day must follow every night. My power keeps me safe from harm. The Goddess holds me in her arms.