Quotes About Night

He's a loner who doesn't want to be alone, grappling with the incubus, a rippling of nocturnal waters, the nausea of unending nights. There are troubling moments of prescience, as he intuits future fragmentation, stoically kicking his way through the shards. He's just going to keep on living till he dies. Whether he paints himself in a good or bad light is not the point. The point is to lay stuff out, smooth the curling edges.

My nights are flatulent and unquiet.

Some praise at morning what they blame at night,But always think the last opinion right.A muse by these is like a mistress us'd,This hour she's idoliz'd, the next abus'd.Pope'sEss. on Crit.

Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, Glimmered the white moonshine. [...] Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.

And aye, beside her stalks her amarous knight! Still on his thighs their wonted brogues are worn, And thro' those brogues, still tatter'd and betorn, His hindward charms glean an unearthly white, Ah! thus thro' broken clouds at night's high Noon Peeps in fair fragments forth the full-orb'd harvest-moon!

This night, so tranquil now, will not go hence.

across hers. "How did you sleep?

Hal wouldn't have done anything so...so...so sinful. Especially not on the night before he left for Central America as she claims.

When I been small, once Driver told me cricket singing was the voice of stars.

It was night, and the sky spreading into a rain that fell like darkness visible, a glistering where there was no light.

The gleaming stars all about the shining moon Hide their bright faces, when full-orbed and splendid In the sky she floats, flooding the shadowed earth with clear silver light.

I realize the blackness of sleep is circling my head. It's been there awhile, biding its time and growing closer with each revolution. I give up on rage, which at this point has become a formality, and make a mental note to get angry again in the morning. Then I let myself drift, because there's really no fighting it.

For the rest of the night, all I could think about was how many heads had lain on those pillows before my own.

He wanted to believe nothing had happened, that their night on the river ended like any other night.

Thoughtful, innovative, this mother was; she always had the solution. So on the stickiest of nights, when the varnished wood chairs sweated and moths panted against my window screen, I would crawl into my smooth white bed of ice cream.

It was always late at night, when everything and everyone else was quiet, that those voices would rise like ghosts, soft and haunting, filling your mind until sleep finally came.

I knew this feeling, the 2 a.m. loneliness that I'd practically invented.

Morning would come before we knew it. It always did. But we still had the night, and for now, we were together, so I just closed my eyes and drank it all in.

See you in dreamland

Watching him, I thought, not for the first time that night, that maybe it should have felt strange to be with him, here, now. And yet it didn't, at all. That was one of the things about the night. Stuff that would be weird in the bright light of day just wasn't so much once you passed a certain hour. It was like the dark just evened it all out somehow.

its been a long night aren't they all?

Isn't that the way everything begins? A night, a love, a once and for all.

Morgan sighed. I, she announced, am so pathetic. You are not, I said. I am. She went over and straightened the cling wrap, corner to corner. Do you know how many times I've brought in devilled eggs? This is, like, the only time I haven't been sobbing and that's only 'cause I cried all night. And Norman, she said, her voice rising to a wail, sweet Norman, always just acts so surprised to see the eggs, and pleased, and he never, once, has ever acted like he knew what they meant.

Stuff that would be weird in the bright light of day just wasn't so much once you passed a certain hour.