Quotes About Sky

From horizon to horizon the sky was filled with stars to within a few degrees of a fresh sliver of moon, a tiny thing lost in the yawn of night.

Death comes to call, you cannot hold water in your hands for long, it leaks away, goes where it's meant to go. To the soil, to the sky. To ions then space, where stars are born." ?Ikrit

was it man's love to screw the sky with monuments span the bay with orange and silver bridges shuttling structure into structure incorruptible in this endless tie each age impassions be it in stone or steel either in echo or halfheard ruin

The stars are dead, but their memories fill the sky

Lately I've had to redefine the word "knowledge" to a knowledge that cannot know anything. I'm dealing not in careless absurdities here but in the way material reality is unobservable and implicit order can be found in paradox. Perhaps despair is the only human sin. Who am I to feel disappointment? Is a bird disappointed in the sky

the sky was shrugging away the clouds

Overhead in the Paris sky Two airplanes fought it out one day And one of them was my whole youth The other was my days to come

My blue mask as a God puts on his sky

Les anges les anges dans le ciel L'un est vêtu en officier L'un est vêtu en cuisinier Et les autres chantent Bel officier couleur du ciel Le doux printemps longtemps après Noël Te médaillera d'un beau soleil D'un beau soleil Le cuisinier plume les oies Ah! tombe neige Tombe et que n'ai-je Ma bien-aimée entre mes bras

Zombie Sky. No: Zombies of the Eclipse. Zombies of the Occultation. Occult Zombies from the Planet Moon!

As long as science fails to discover the sources of life, as long as, on sea or in the sky, there is an abyss that is resistant to mathematical reckoning, as long as mankind in its steady progress is ignorant of where it's heading, as long as a mystery exists for man, there will be poetry!

Just as the absence of clouds does not mean the end of the sky, neither is an empty mind the end of knowing.

Darkness gives way to morning's sunrise, Winter ends, there are flowers, birds fly. Honour the goddess, remember the gods. We are children of earth and sky.

Full moon is falling through the sky. Cranes fly through clouds. Wolves howl. I cannot find rest Because I am powerless To amend a broken world.

If only i could get that under control then i feel like i could stay here a long time, watching the days leaking into the nights, swilling over the buildings, bleeding back again. I could lie and not think of anything but ways to describe the sky, the clouds, the light.

The sky is blue because the molecules of the atmosphere scatter the blue wavelengths more than the others; the blue seems to come from everywhere in the sky.

My emotions were fast becoming those of a dog, as though, now my search was over, a ghost had been vanquished. The ghost was my humanness. I felt free, free as any bird in the sky. Free to live as a dog. I ran for nearly a day and, when I finally dropped, the last remnants of my old self had been purged.

It was not a friendly picture, but to Conway, as he surveyed, there came a queer perception of fineness in it, of something that had no romantic appeal at all, but a steely, almost an intellectual quality. The white pyramid in the distance compelled the mind's assent as passionlessly as a Euclidean theorem, and when at last the sun rose into a sky of deep delphinium blue, he felt only a little less than comfortable again.

But here, at Shangri–La, all was in deep calm. In a moonless sky the stars were lit to the full, and a pale blue sheen lay upon the dome of Karakal

Billions of hard, bright stars shone with relentless glitter across the tropic night sky.

When the short days of winter came, dusk fell before we had well eaten our dinners. When we met in the street the houses had grown sombre. The space of sky above us was the colour of ever-changing violet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their feeble lanterns. The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed. Our shouts echoed in the silent street.

We who live under heaven, we of the clovery kindgom, we middlesins people have often watched the sky overreaching the land.

In the wide land under a tender lucid evening sky, a cloud drifting westward amid a pale green sea of heaven, they stood together, children that had erred.

Sparkling bronze azure eyed Blazure's skyblue bow and eyes.