Quotes About Night

The courthouse clock struck nine and it was getting late and it was really night on this small street in a small town in a big state on a large continent on a planet earth hurtling down the pit of space toward nowhere or somewhere and Tom feeling every mile of the long drop.

And there were two moons; the clock moon with four faces in four night directions above the solemn black courthouse, and the real moon rising in vanilla whiteness from the dark east.

But three, now, Christ three A.M.! Doctors say the body's at low tide then. The soul is out. The blood moves slow. You're the nearest to dead you'll ever be save dying. Sleep is a patch of death, but three in the morn, full wide-eyed staring, is living death! You dream with your eyes open. God, if you had strength to rouse up, you'd slaughter your half-dreams with buckshot!

The keys to the beetle are on the night table. I always like to drive fast when I feel that way. You get up to around ninety-five and you feel wonderful. Sometimes I drive all night and come back and you don't know it. It's fun out in the country. You hit rabbits, sometimes you hit dogs. Go take the beetle.

The wine still waits in the cellars below. My beloved family still sits on the porch in the dark. The fire balloon still drifts and burns in the night sky of an as yet unburied summer. Why and how? Because I say it is so.

Mireasma fanului uscat si curgerea domoala a apei trezira in el dorinta de a se culca intr-o claie de fan proaspat, intr-un sopron singuratic, departe de autostrazile zgomotoase, in spatele vreunei ferme linistite, sub vreo moara veche de vant, care sa vuiasca lin, cu vuietul anilor ce trec. Ar sta treaz toata noaptea in sopronul acela, ascultand zvoana departata a jivinelor, ganganiilor si copacilor, freamatul si forfota lor marunta.

This summer night deep down under the stars was all the things you would ever feel or see or hear in your life, drowning you all at once.

Way late at night Will had heard—how often?—train whistles jetting steam along the rim of sleep, forlorn, alone and far, no matter how near they came. Sometimes he woke to find tears on his cheek, asked why, lay back, listened and thought, Yes! they make me cry, going east, going west, the trains of far gone in country deeps they drown in tides of sleep that escape the towns.

Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? The grave. Does blood stir their veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks from their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars.

There were fireworks the very first night, things that you should be afraid of perhaps, for they might remind you of other more horrible things, but these were beautiful, rockets that ascended into the ancient soft air of Mexico and shook the stars apart in blue and white fragments.

Behind him the lights of the lonely little store blinked out and there was only a street light shimmering on the corner, and the whole city seemed to be going to sleep.

Now, sucking all the night into his open mouth and blowing it out pale, with all the blackness left heavily inside himself...

Moonlit reflections trembled in the glass like schools of disturbed silver minnows.

There was a smell like a cut potato from all the land, raw and cold and white from having the moon on it most of the night.

with the moon and the stars moving in a grand rotation toward inevitable dawn, and them loping, and the last of this night's weeping done ...

At eleven that hot night everyone in Texas was awake because of the heat.

N'est-ce pas agréable de se promener à cette heure de la nuit ? J'aime humer les choses, regarder les choses, et il m'arrive de rester toute la nuit debout, à marcher, et de regarder le soleil se lever. (Clarisse McClellan)

lui doveva andarsene, uscire, respirare l'aria libera della notte, conoscere le libere acque della notte che correvano verso mari più grandi e più liberi.

By night the wires on the high poles tell evil tales in the dripping mist.

I leave you now at the bottom of your own stair, at half after midnight, with a pad, a pen, and a list to be made. Conjure the nouns, alert the secret self, taste the darkness. Your own Thing stands waiting way up there in the attic shadows. If you speak softly, and write any old word that wants to jump out of your nerves onto the page... your Thing at the top of the stairs in your own private night... May well come down.

Everything, thought Lavinia, is boxed and locked and wrapped and shaded. She imagined the people in their moonlit beds. And their breathing in the summer-night rooms, safe and together.

and then (he) lay down with the moonlight on his cheek-bones and on the frowning ridges in his brow, with the moonlight distilled in each eye to form a silver cataract. there.

That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain… .

Uscì quindi dalla casa del fuoco e si diresse per la strada notturna - era mezzanotte - verso la ferrovia sotterranea, dove il silenzioso convoglio ad aria compressa, scivolando come un'ombra dentro il suo budello bene oleato nelle viscere della terra, lo rigurgitò con uno sbuffo possente d'aria calda, sulla scala mobile dal pavimento color crema, che saliva verso la superficie, nella zona suburbana.