Quotes About Night

There's a joy in having the molecule of an idea, then testing it in front of audiences at secret shows that people only know about the night before.

IV is the quickest hangover cure on the planet. Trust me. If you ever feel like you're dying from a hangover, contact a nurse you know. A medic. An EMT. Anyone who can hook you up with some intravenous cleansing. You feel like a new man. A new man ready to haul around drunks all night.

As night is withdrawn From these sweet-springing meads and bursting boughs of May, Dream, while the innumerable choir of day Welcome the dawn.

The broad cloud-driving moon in the clear sky Lifts oer the firs her shining shield, And in her tranquil light Sleep falls on forest and field. See! sleep hath fallen: the trees are asleep: The night is come. The land is wrapt in sleep.

On such a night, when Air has loosed Its guardian grasp on blood and brain, Old terrors then of god or ghost Creep from their caves to life again.

Here she was trying to teach him the Peasant Shuffle. He could not hope to master it all in a night, of course; at the Peasants' School in Zug they had spent an entire semester on Cringing alone.

How beautiful is night! A dewy freshness fills the silent air; No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, Breaks the serene of heaven.

It was like traveling through a stage setting, the air clear and tingling, the moonlight sparkling off bushes laced with frost.

Even at night, while he slept, the flamen Dialis was supposed to be attending to his divine service, for a receptacle containing sacred cakes was at the foot of his bed (Gell., 10, 15, 14).

The mask of self-deception was no longer a mask for me, it was a part of me. Night lifted it, laying bare the stifled truth below; but there was no one to see except myself

The mask of self-deception was not longer a mask for me, it was a part of me. Night lifted it, laying bare the stifled truth below; but there was no one to see except myself, and when day broke the mask fell back again of its own accord.

Along the shore the cloud waves break, The twin suns sink behind the lake, The shadows lengthen In Carcosa. Strange is the night where black stars rise, And strange moons circle through the skies, But stranger still is Lost Carcosa. Songs that the Hyades shall sing, Where flap the tatters of the King, Must die unheard in Dim Carcosa. Song of my soul, my voice is dead, Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed Shall dry and die in Lost Carcosa.

At last he whispered: 'Sylvia, it is I.' Again he said, 'It is I.' Then, knowing that she was dead, he kissed her on the mouth. And through the long watches of the night the cat purred on his knee, tightening and relaxing her padded claws, until the sky paled above the Street of the Four Winds.

leaving just before midnight

Praise offered in the night bears fruit in the day.

Algunas veces en la noche, yo pensaba en la belleza con que los poetas estremecieron al mundo, y todo el corazón se me anegaba de pena como una boca con un grito. Pensaba en las fiestas a que ellos asistieron, las fiestas de la ciudad, las fiestas en los parajes arbolados con antorchas de sol en los jardines florecidos, y de entre las manos se caía mi pobreza.

Porque no habrá en la noche un camino abierto por el cual se pueda correr una eternidad alejándose de la tierra.

Bright colours in the west, giant butterflies dancing as night crept like a cripple toward the east.

The demented strutting of a dumb bird in the moonlight.

There's a secret sickness called Lisa. Like all sicknesses, it's miserable and it comes on at night.

And then we would leave, and by that time it would already be dark, and as we headed to the bus or the subway or went walking home, we would eat our sandwiches, enjoying the Mexico City night, which I've always thought is gorgeous, the nights here are mostly cool and bright but not cold, nights made for walking or fucking, nights made for talking.

These weren't comforting nights, much less pleasant ones, but Espinoza discovered two things that helped him mightily in the early days: he would never be a fiction writer, and, in his own way, he was brave.

That night I didn't sleep a wink, said Norton in her letter, and it occurred to me to call Morini. It was late, it was rude to bother him at that hour, it was rash of me, it was a terrible imposition, but I called him. I remember I dialed his number and immediately I turned out the light in the room, as if so long as I was in the dark Morini couldn't see my face. To my surprise, he picked up the phone instantly.

nunca serás un hombre sabio, vaya, ni siquiera un hombre razonablemente inteligente, pero el amor y tu sangre te hicieron dar un paso, incierto pero necesario, en medio de la noche, y el amor que guió ese paso te salva