Quotes About Sunlight

The ghosts . . . try to remember the sunlight. Light has died out of their skies.

Chester Stone said nothing. Just stood up and threaded his way by all the furniture and over to the door. Through the reception area and into the corridor and into the elevator. Down eighty-eight floors and back outside, where the bright morning sun hit him in the face like a blow.

Her eyes were green, and they were warm and liquid with some kind of deep, dreamy satisfaction. There was sparkle, muted, like winking sunlight on a woodland stream. And bitter amusement. She was mocking him, and herself, and the whole wide world.

Natasha has just come up to the window from the courtyard and opened it wider so that the air may enter more freely into my room. I can see the bright green strip of grass beneath the wall, and the clear blue sky above the wall, and sunlight everywhere. Life is beautiful. Let the future generations cleanse it of all evil, oppression and violence, and enjoy it to the full.

The owners who had arrived at the bungalow were very kind people, and all the more so now that they were far from the city breathing pure air, seeing around them everything green, and blue and harmless. The sunlight went into them in warmth, and came out again in laughter and goodwill towards all things living.

And is not that a Mother's gentle hand that undraws your curtains, and a Mother's sweet voice that summons you to rise? To rise and forget, in the bright sunlight, the ugly dreams that frightened you so when all was dark.

The cats were relaxing in a patch of sunlight on the rug without a thought in their sleek brown heads. What matter to them that it was Sunday-or even Thursday? Every day was Today in their scheme of things, and there was no such thing as Yesterday or Tomorrow.

There is a muscular energy in sunlight corresponding to the spiritual energy of wind.

Sunlight is like the breath of life to the pomp of autumn.

Stop seeking out the storms and enjoy more fully the sunlight.

I believe depression is legitimate. But I also believe that if you don't exercise, eat nutritious food, get sunlight, get enough sleep, consume positive material, surround yourself with support, then you aren't giving yourself a fighting chance.

In the future, that would become Rufus's favorite daytime resting and/or sleeping spot. He could watch out over his world, be close to me, and nap peacefully as the sunlight flowed, diffused by the slate, through the wide wooden blinds.

Today is a cross-quarter day, halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. The sun is becoming an ever greater presence; the days are growing longer.

This stretching of self beyond stretchable boundaries, this glory of being where few have stood, of listening and seeing, of feeling the sun and the rock, somehow matters very much. The exhilaration is worth every bit of the discomfort and duress. I have pushed through discomfort to another level of being. I love being here, shot through with sunlight, incandescing it outward as I receive it inward. I feel an outer glory like an aura or a nimbus

You dreamt of me, I knew, And hence I couldn't sleep. The lantern flickered blue And there my path ran steep. [...] "This is a lake," you thought. "There is an island here..." Just then, on the darkened road, A little blue light appeared. By wretched sunlight severed, You stirred and moaned in pain, And for the first time ever, You called me by my name.

Wild honey smells of freedom The dust - of sunlight The mouth of a young girl, like a violet But gold - smells of nothing. Mignonette smells of water Love smells of apples And now we know Blood smells of blood.

A Path in the Woods from a New Name" I don't trust the truth of memories because what leaves us departs forever There's only one current of this sacred river but I still want to remain faithful to my first astonishments to recognize as wisdom the child's wonder and to carry in myself until the end a path in the woods of my childhood dappled with patches of sunlight

Water rising under rock Breaks earth's lock, Floods thirst roots, Nurtures sap and trunk and shoots, Greens and plumps each greedy leaf Till dappled sunlight like a thief Sucks leaf-water as I breathe, Makes of mist an airy wreath To drift and float and wander high To the sky, And fall again, Sweet, rich rain, Run under rock and Rise again.

To cry was to release all sorts of ugly little pressures and tensions. Like waking out of a long, dark dream to a sun-filled day.

bathed in the thick honey gold of the sun through encircling trees only just beginning to turn the muted metal colors of fall.

We have known for many years that we need vitamin D to facilitate calcium absorption and promote bone mineralization.

The way ran zigzag through a forest of pine which the bitter wind, still that morning, had turned to ice; every bough was adorned with lines of stalactite which shivered and glittered in the morning sun; every needle had a brilliant, vitreous case and when she flicked her whip at a wayside shrub she brought down a tinkling shower of ice-leaves, each the veined impression of its crisp, green counterpart.

He was not at all what is called 'a character'. He was an innocent, affable old man who had somehow preserved his good humor – much more than that, a mysterious and tranquil joy – throughout a life which to all outward observation had been overloaded with misfortune. He had like many another been born in full sunlight and lived to see night fall.

Over the great bridge, with the sunlight through the girders making a constant flicker upon the moving cars, with the city rising up across the river in white heaps and sugar lumps all built with a wish out of non-olfactory money. The city seen from the Queensboro Bridge is always the city seen for the first time, in its first wild promise of all the mystery and the beauty in the world.