Quotes About Stars

To leave Venice felt as foreign as flying to the stars.

We stood for a moment, the brackish canal water teething at the stone,the last of the stars fading as the sky transformed from black to indigo. A pair of swans like large white clouds floated on the water, their heads tucked under their wings, as a gondola pulled up, a lantern on the prow, the gondolier on the stern, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

Elpino. We shall say that this finite world [20] with the finite stars embraceth the perfection of all things. Theophilo. You may say so, but you cannot prove it. For the world [20] of this our finite space embraceth indeed the perfection of all those finite objects contained within our space, but not of those infinite potentialities of innumerable other spaces

Thirdly, it will be propounded that every star hath motion even as hath our own and those others which are so near to us that we can sensibly perceive the differences in their orbits and in their motions: but those suns, bodies in which fire doth predominate, move differently to the earths in which water predominateth; thus may be understood whence is derived the light diffused by stars, of which some glow of themselves and others by reflection.

Quale canto s'è levato stanotte che intesse di cristallina eco del cuore le stelle

E la creatura terrificata sbarra gli occhi e accoglie gocciole di stelle e la pianura muta e si sente riavere

If you had swum across the furthest ocean And seen the vastness of infinity Though dread of death might seize you, you'd still see The rolling waves in never-ceasing motion You'd still see something: Schools of dolphins swimming Across the green and placid waters, skimming The clouds, the sun and the moon, stars overhead - You will see nothing in that void all round You will not hear your footsteps where you tread Beneath your feet, you'll feel no solid ground

I'll love thee as the bee the flower In which the fragrant honey lies, As nightingales the evening hour, And as the star adores the skies. A guardian-angel, I'll watch o'er Thy soul, and every harm repel; But in return I still implore, Oh, love me truly,—love me well.

I stood upon an ocean's short, And viewed the silent deep; While 'neath the brightly beaming stars All nature lay asleep. As 'lone I paced that pebbly strand, And thought of those above, An angel seem'd to whisper me,— There's nothing true but love.

...for so a wise man shall overrule his stars, and have a greater influence upon his own content than all the constellations and planets of the firmament.

So we need not feel ashamed of flirting with the zodiac. The zodiac is well worth flirting with. But not in the rather silly modern way of horoscopy and telling your fortune by the stars... They want their "fortune" told, never this misfortune.

...his gaze wandered from the windows to the stars, as if he would have read in them something that was hidden from him. Many of us would if we could; but none of us so much as know our letters in the stars yet, — or seem likely to do it in this state of existence, — a few languages can be read until their alphabets are mastered.

Be humble, for you are made of dung. Be noble, for you are made of stars.

A millennium without air or light pollution made for pitch-black skies. The stars didn't just appear anymore. They exploded. Diamonds on black velvet. You couldn't tear your eyes away.

...the smoke-smuggered stars...

One time as dusk slipped into dark, I stood upon a stubble-hill, And saw the stars come floating in Like chaff blown from a mill. And when the dark slipped into night, I saw chaff on the plain below. (The lights of a city smouldered there In phosphorescent glow.) The plain I knew, the sky I knew, But then I wondered in dismay Which were the stars, and which the lights… And I asked the night away.

We mourn for thee when blind, blank night The chamber fills; We pine for thee when morn's first light Reddens the hills; The sun, the moon, the stars, the sea, All, to the wall flower and wild pea, Are changed — we saw the world through thee...

Night in the desert. Nowhere else in all the world Night comes like this... My eyes, my human eyes, can see no end... The hard bright moon seems far, so far away— —The million, million stars that jeer at me— Great God, how big it is—and I But one more grain of sand beneath the immeasurable sky— Night in the desert...

Your heart is a sun— Joy its stars, Faith a moon, shining in your darkness...

But my heart it is brighter Than all of the many Stars in the sky...

With the aurora borealis flaming coldly overhead, or the stars leaping in the frost dance, and the land numb and frozen under its pall of snow, this song of the huskies might have been the defiance of life, only it was pitched in minor key, with long-drawn wailings and half-sobs, and was more the pleading of life, the articulate travail of existence. It was an old song, old as the breed itself—one of the first songs of the younger world in a day when songs were sad.

That night, he pointed his nose to the cold stars and gave the long wolf-howl.

And when, on the still cold nights, he pointed his nose at a star and howled long and wolf-like, it was his ancestors, dead and dust, pointing nose at star and howling down through the centuries and through him.

I still read the books to-day, but never again shall I read them with that old glory of youthful passion when I harked to the call from over and beyond that whispered me on to win to the mystery at the back of life and behind the stars.