Quotes About Sunlight

The black ice of that dark fortress received the sunlight like a mortal wound.

it feels as if half your life is a sort of struggle toward the sunlight. Then you get five minutes in the sun and after that you're dragged down into the darkness again

Outside, the September air was enticingly fragrant, yellow with pollen and rich, lemony sunlight.

It was a warm and breezy day, too warm for Sally's heavy clothes, so she draped her coat over her arm. The sun went through the fabric of her dress, a hot hand across flesh and bones. Sally felt as though she'd been dead and now that she was back she was particularly sensitive to the world of the living: the touch of the wind against her skin, the gnats in the air, the scent of mud and new leaves, the sweetness of blues and greens.

It was a clear, bright, beautiful day, the air tinged with salt, the climbing roses blooming. The graveyard was filled with sunlight.

There were nearly as many frogs in the shallows, where lily pads floated. Some water lily flowers were white and some were yellow and some were the palest pink. Dragonflies darted above the water, their iridescent wings catching the glint of the sunlight.

She squinted against the sunlight on taxi hoods and bus windows, heard the rushing now of air and of taxis, wheezing buses, and underneath it all something banging—a loosened street sign, a trapped can, a distant hammer—rhythmic and methodical. The march of time.

The stains could be seen only in the sunlight, so Ruth was never really aware of them until later, when she would stop at an outdoor cafe for a cup of coffee, and look down at her skirt and see the dark traces of spilled vodka or whiskey. The alcohol had the effect of making the black cloth blacker. This amused her; she had noted in her journal: 'booze affects material as it does people'.

The sun came through the branches of the tree above her, and Ruth looked up past them. I think she listens, she said, too softly to be heard.

Allen Ginsberg to Peter Orlovsky— 1958 Tho I long for the actual sunlight contact between us I miss you like a home. Shine back honey & think of me.

Mom, how come you never go outside? I told you, I'm a vampire.

An immense body, encircling my delirium, a body made of wind and sunlight, crouching and stretching, encompassed the existence of the slightest human echo.

When you were a Goth, it was important to at least imply the possibility you might burst into flames in direct sunlight.

There was no such thing as arguing with delight. Like seeing a pretty girl with the sunlight in her hair, like pancakes and hot chocolate in front of a crackling fire. Delight was one of the fundamental forces of being, like gravity.

You ever find a cat sleeping in a ray of sun? There's a sound over there. It's a golden sound. That's the only way to describe it. It's a bright sound, and it has little flecks of music in it, drifting like motes of dust. And you just know if you let that sound get inside you, if you hummed along with it, you'd rest like a cat in the sun. A perfect rest. You could rest a billion years.

he sees a place where he will passively fade away, like wallpaper that gets too much sunlight and slowly loses its color. This

osteomalacia

I feel as though my life is bathed in golden sunlight. And the really wonderful thing is that I know it.

For the breath of life is in the sunlight and the hand of life is in the wind.

Religion disapproves of original thought the way Dracula does sunlight.

The gossamer web of life, spun on the loom of sunlight from the breath of an infant Earth, is nature's crowning achievement on this planet.

Forgotten mornings when he walked with his motherThrough the parablesOf sunlightAnd the legend of the green chapels.

I had lost my dad. I had come here to this island from a house of tears and falsehood and I saw Gat, and I saw that rose in his hand, and in that one moment, with the sunlight from the window shining in on him, the apples on the kitchen counter, the smell of wood and ocean in the air, I did call it love.

and in that one moment, with the sunlight from the window shining in on him, the apples on the kitchen counter, the smell of wood and ocean in the air -- I did call it love.