Quotes About Sky

Without a window between me and this absolute-black sky, the effect of such undetailed heavens was profound, frightening not just because of the uncanny darkness but also for a reason that eluded me. Or perhaps the reason was not elusive. Maybe I dreaded acknowledging and considering it, for fear that contemplation would soon sweep me out of the main currents of sanity, into a tributary of madness.

As the universe relentlessly expanded, the stars moved ever farther from Earth, until in a distant time after the end of the human era, maybe the night sky would no longer be richly diamonded, but would offer blackness relieved solely by the moon that reflected the light of the only star that would ever matter, the sun in its

Life is so fragile and uncertain that every daybreak is a miracle, almost a triumph. That first blush in the sky is all the hope of the world distilled into light.

The moon floated in the west, not yet behind those mountains, as radiant as some exotic jellyfish in the sea of space, and the sky twinkled with more stars than Woody could count in a lifetime.

As the last of the debris fell behind her and the crash of thunder rolled away through the city, as she came to the east end of the park, the once-dark sky paled, abruptly glaucous, and cataracts of rain fell hard, fat droplets hissing through the trees and grass, snapping off the pavement, plinking the metal hoods on trash cans, carrying with them the faint bleachy odor of ozone, a form of oxygen created by lightning's alchemy.

For a while, as the spent sky sluggishly refilled its reservoir with laden clouds drawn off the ocean, Bibi

It was one of the moments you stay in, to hell with all the troubles of before and after. The sky is blue and the dead are coming back. Later in the afternoon, with sad resignation, the county fair bares its breasts.

The lid, however, wouldn't shut. The mind held back the whole sky.

The sky was a bruised red shot with black, almost exactly the colors of a tattoo. Sunset had two minutes left to live.

I'm sure we were all feeling blessed on this ferryboat among the humps of very green--in the sunlight almost coolly burning, like phosphorus--islands, and the water of inlets winking in the sincere light of day, under a sky as blue and brainless as the love of God, despite the smell, the slight, dreamy suffocation, of some kind of petroleum-based compound used to seal the deck's seams.

A child, I'm miserable admitting it, a child stands like a priest under his father's sky. Why do you fate me to fail you?

The water of inlets winking in the sincere light of day, under a sky as blue and brainless as the love of God.

One small, orange flower that looked as if it had fallen down here from Andromeda, surrounded by a part of the world cast mainly in eleven hundred shades of brown, under a sky whose blueness seemed to get lost in it's own distances.

we parked under a strange sky with a faint image of a quarter-moon super imposed on it.

Montooth squared himself, his eyes suddenly clear. "You heard the earth's mostly water, right?" Joe nodded. "And people think God lives up in the sky, but that don't never make much sense to me because the sky is way, way up there, not part of us, you know?" "But the ocean?" Joe said. "That's the skin of the world. And I think God lives in the drops. Moves through a wave like the foam itself. I look

It was a beautiful bright autumn day, with air like cider and a sky so blue you could drown in it.

I put back my head, looking up at the deep black sky swimming with hot stars. If you knew they were really balls of flaming gas, you could imagine them as Van Gogh saw them, without difficulty . . . and looking into that illuminated void, you understood why people have always looked up into the sky when talking to God. You need to feel the immensity of something very much bigger than yourself, and there it is - immeasurably vast, and always near at hand. Covering you.

Not loneliness, but solitude. Not suffering, but endurance, the discovery of grim kinship with the rocks and sky. And the finding here of a harsh peace that would transcend bodily discomfort, a healing instead of the wounds of the soul.

me. The cloud cover had parted for a moment and the light touched the

Twilight was rising beyond the window, from field and wood and river. People spoke of night falling, but it didn't, really. Darkness rose, filling first the hollows, then shadowing the slopes, creeping imperceptibly up tree trunks and fenceposts as night swallowed the ground and rose up to join the greater dark of the star-spread sky above

What are we going to do?" I said softly, addressing the question to the overwhelming depths of the vast dark sky overhead. I heard no sound but the rush of wind in the pine trees; no answer, save the form of my own question—the faint echo of "we" that rang in my ears. That much was true at least; whatever happened, none of us need face things alone. And I supposed that was after all as much answer as I needed, for now.

the wispy clouds of the morning had been knitting themselves up into a low sky the color of dirty wool

cloud, a uniform color from horizon to

If you have a dream in your heart that beats with the pulse of the night sky, then your soul is happy.