Quotes About Sunset

The track curved and now it was going away from the sun, which as it sank lower, seemed to spread itself in benediction over the vanishing city where she had drawn her breath. He stretched out his hand desperately as if to snatch only a wisp of air, to save a fragment of the spot that she had made lovely for him. But it was all going by too fast now for his blurred eyes and he knew that he had lost that part of it, the freshest and the best, forever.

This unlikely story begins on a sea that was a blue dream, as colorful as blue-silk stockings, and beneath a sky as blue as the irises of children's eyes. From the western half of the sky the sun was shying little golden disks at the sea--if you gazed intently enough you could see them skip from wave tip to wave tip until they joined a broad collar of golden coin that was collecting half a mile out and would eventually be a dazzling sunset.

Her face, ivory gold against the blurred sunset that strove through the rain…

Por un momento el último rayo de sol cayó con una afectación romántica sobre su cara radiante; su voz me llevaba dejándome sin aliento conforme yo escuchaba...

Astfel alunecam spre moarte,prin amurgul din care caldura zilei pierea treptat.

Ils sont arrivés au coucher du soleil, et pendant que nous naviguions parmi des centaines d'invités en effervescence, Daisy faisait jouer dans un murmure les sortilèges de sa voix.

With the last of the sun fading, he could see the reflection of the green lights on the docks across the way and the stars twinkling in the river like small diamonds. What a show. This was better than any movie he had ever seen, and it was different every night. It was so wonderful at times he felt he wanted to do something about it, to try and stop time, make it last longer, but he didn't know what to do.

What matters is to be natural and calm In happiness and in unhappiness, To feel as if feeling were seeing, To think as if thinking were walking, And to remember, when death comes, that each day dies, And the sunset is beautiful, and so is the night that remains . . . That's how it is and how I want it to be . . .

I love you the way I love the sunset or the moonlight: I want the moment to remain, but all I want to possess in it is the sensation of possessing it.

Since the pleasure we get from art is in a sense not our own, we don't have to pay for it or regret it later. By art I mean everything that delights us without being ours – the trail left by what has passed, a smile given to someone else, a sunset, a poem, the objective universe. To possess is to lose. To feel without possessing is to preserve and keep, for it is to extract from things their essence.

I fell, with every sunset, against my hopes and certainties.

La grandeza de una bella puesta de sol me entristece con toda su hermosura. Ante ella suelo decir: el que es feliz debe sentirse contento al ver esto.

And at this table in my absurd room, I, a pathetic and anonymous office clerk, write words as if they were the soul's salvation, and I gild myself with the impossible sunset of high and vast hills in the distance, with the statue I received in exchange for life's pleasures, and with the ring of renunciation on my evangelical finger, the stagnant jewel of my ecstatic disdain.

A glória de um poente belo, com a sua beleza entristece-me . Ante ele eu digo sempre: como quem é feliz se deve sentir contente ao ver isto!

So many times, so many, like now, it has oppressed me to feel myself feel – to feel anguish just because it's a feeling, restlessness because I'm here, nostalgia for something I've never known, the sunset of all emotions, myself yellowing, subdued to grey sadness in my external selfawareness.

Mas imperfeito é tudo, nem há poente tão belo que o não pudesse ser mais, ou brisa leve que nos dê sono que não pudesse dar-nos um sono mais calmo ainda.

of all the things in the world to see, I reckon the heavens at sundown has got to be my favorite sight. How about you?" "The sky's a good place to look," he said. "And I got a notion it's a good place to go.

He remembered the often-unsung words: Day is done. Gone the sun From the lake From the hill From the sky. Rest in peace Soldier brave God is nigh. . . .

Ferme tes yeux à demi, Croise tes bras sur ton sein, Et de ton cÅ"ur endormi Chasse à jamais tout dessein."   "Je chante la nature, Les étoiles du soir, les larmes du matin, Les couchers de soleil à l'horizon lointain, Le ciel qui parle au cÅ"ur d'existence future!

Images,wounds. That is all he can see. And the images are dissolving little by little, like the setting sun, leaving only the wounds.

Amalfitano began to weep. His little house, his parched yard, the television set and the video player, the magnificent northern Mexico sunset, struck him as enigmas that carried their own solutions with them, inscribed in chalk on the forehead. It's all so simple and so terrible, he thought. Then he got up from his faded yellow sofa and closed the curtains.

Night came early to this neighborhood, the sun fleeing the sky, leaving heaven black and blue.

My dear, don't let the sun go down upon your anger - forgive each other, help each other and begin again tomorrow.

My dear, don't let the sun go down upon your anger. Forgive each other, help each other, and begin again tomorrow.