Quotes About Sunset

I love the Gulf of Mexico.

Call for the grandest of all earthly spectacles, what is that? It is the sun going to his rest.

She had learned the lesson of renunciation and was as familiar with the wreck of each day's wishes as with the diurnal setting of the sun.

The Wound I climbed to the crest, And, fog-festooned, The sun lay west Like a crimson wound: Like that wound of mine Of which none knew, For I'd given no sign That it pierced me through.

While they sipped Sue went to the window and thoughtfully said, It is such a beautiful sunset, Richard. They are mostly beautiful from here, owing to the rays crossing the mist of the vale. But I lose them all, as they don't shine into this gloomy corner where I lie. Wouldn't you like to see this particular one? It is like heaven opened. Ah yes! But I can't.

It had been dark at the beach for hours, he hadn't been smoking much and it wasn't headlights – but before she turned away, he could swear he saw light falling on her face, the orange light just after sunset that catches a face turned to the west, watching the ocean for someone to come in on the last wave of the day, in to shore and safety.

The heavens opened for the sunset to-night. When I had thought the day folded and sealed, came a burst of heavenly bright petals.

Arnold sat on his porch, watching the sun die a phoenix death, bruising the clouds as it struggled to stay afloat in the evening sky.

Only I and the sunset In the snow-valley of your breast And the slow shadows of the motion of your breath, Only I and moonrise in the valley of your breast And the dark of sleep ... Until lilies in the valley have opened, And I am awake with petals And with the birds of your voice.

What is Death, so it be but glorious? 'Tis a sunset; And mortals may be happy to resemble The Gods but in decay.

This distinctly suggests a renunciation, an envy of one's own youth, of that time of "effortlessness" which one would so gladly cling on to. But the final stanza portends disaster: a gazing towards the other land, the distant coast of sunrise or sunset. Love no longer holds the poet fast, the bonds with the world are broken, and loudly he calls for help to the mother:

Cumulus clouds became incendiary as the setting sun lit them. The quiet was extraordinary, the only sound the burble of a truck leaving Mammoth Village and descending the switchbacks toward Gardiner.

She removed the salad plates and presented the garlic roasted crab with a flourish. Hot, pungent aromas steamed Lex's face as she leaned over the plate for a long, ecstatic breath. An exotic mix of spices melded with the warm richness of browned butter. Only a whiff of brine. The shells had a warm, healthy sunset color. Her mouth watered. She lifted the top shell and inhaled a sweet tang of the sea.

Every sunset is my world turning. Every season is good and offers its bounty to me. Every moment is mine to embrace for it is the Eternal Now forever expressing in, through, and for me. I live in the Forever Here that is alive in all. Translucent grace shines in us, awake and aware of the beauty we are as we become all we were meant to be. And so it is.     For

Sunset on the water ought to be a quiet and easy time, but I guess some people can't stand a little silence.

No one should deny the danger of the descent, but it can be risked. No one need risk it, but it is certain that someone will. And let those who go down the sunset way do so with open eyes, for it is a sacrifice which daunts even the gods. Yet every descent is followed by an ascent; the vanishing shapes are shaped anew, and a truth is valid in the end only if it suffers change and bears new witness in new images, in new tongues, like a new wine that is put into new bottles.

No one should deny the danger of the descent, but it can be risked. No one need to risk it, but it is certain that someone will. And let those who go down the sunset way do so with open eyes, for it is a sacrifice which daunts even the gods. Yet every descent is followed by an ascent; the vanishing shapes are shaped anew, and a truth is valid in the end only if it suffers change and bears new witness in new images, in new tongues, like a new wine that is put into new bottles.

The sun is starting to dip to the west, a bright blaring ball tilting toward the Hudson and leaving a collage of peach and purple streaks across the sky.

The thrush called strangeness into the sunset.

And he could glance at her continually as she bent over the fruit, while the level evening sunbeams stole through the thick apple-tree boughs and rested on her round cheek and neck as if they too were in love with her.

A human being born at one of Uranus's poles would be a middle-aged man at sunset and a very old man before it was time for a second sunrise.

Por las tardes salía de la mano de mi madre a ver la puesta de sol desde las rocas. Esperábamos para formular un deseo, atentas al último rayo verde que surgía como una llamita en el instante preciso en que el sol desaparecía en el horizonte.

The most dangerous part of the race is early evening and especially early morning. It's the twilight zone. Either you're going into darkness and the sun is dropping down, or you're coming out of the darkness and the sun is coming up. At the same time, you've got new drivers coming in and feeling their way around the circuit.

Think that day lost whose (low) descending sun Views from thy hand no noble action done.