Quotes About Night

Fear gripped her like hands around the neck, the way it could only happen in an unfamiliar room in the pitch black of night.

She waved good-bye and hurried down the street towards her family's house, thinking again that some nights had good karma and some nights were cursed, and for a few moments, tonight had seemed like the former, but it had ended up the latter.

She was conscious of being alive and being present: a clear night, a golden beach, good food.

It had been the quintessential autumn night, cool but not yet cold, the air smelling of wood smoke and leaves.

Her feet were buried in the sand and the champagne had warmed the very center of her. She was conscious of being alive and being present: a clear night, a golden beach, good food

and the words were night in the night and we were shadows.

Yes, Miss Ashburn, when at night you had retired from me, I beheld only solitude and imprisonment; and I have waited hours in that forlorn gallery, that I might catch the whisper of your breathings, that the consciousness of being near a friend might restore me to hope, to hilarity, to confidence.

My soul has gained the freedom of the night.

The universe was very beautiful. I looked out through the lock into the darkless night, and the hugeness of the galaxy took my breath away.

A barn owl was perched atop the refrigerator.

The warm night air-her own continued existence shocked her as much as brightness would have if she'd been drowning, and somehow kicked herself into daylight again before the black water could suck her down.

Night was all around her, but a denser patch flowed forward, stepping over the dying boy to pause beyond the reach of her blade.

The drink is drunk. The dice and draughts are set aside at the waning edge of a long night of testing conversations and ugly murmurs.

She tilted her head back reflexively, drinking deep of the night air tainted by the unwholesome sweetness of the Well, looking upward as if the stars were there to help her bear the pain.

Matthew the Magician leaned against a wrought iron lampost on Forty-second Street, richly picking at the edges of his ten rings and listening to his city breathing into the warm September night.

The wine was finished; the night's conversation drifted into sitting and dozing, watching the night.

For now, Rien could distract herself with the texture of an alien night and the cold trees, ice and snow and the stars smeared behind a frosty sky.

The cold of Faerie magic pierced he warmth of the night; the Seeker's will cast a shadow as she pausd under a streetlight, again chafing her hands.

Detective Crown Investigator Abigail Irene Garrett had no one to turn to for comfort on a dismal night in April. When the chill slipped like an unwelcome guest between sheet and featherbed and her faded blue eyes came open, Garrett's hand crept automatically to the pistol under her pillow. Her half-awakened intellect checked her wards and guards. Intact. Despite the muffled impact of her heart against her ribcage, she was as alone as she should have been.

Tis a night for the fall of kingdoms, Robert.

Benedick's domaine was a heaven, bigger than Mallory's, full of stark black-limbed trees, twig-rimmed in ice. They came on a high ledge overlooking a valley of sorts, the whole thing dark with true night and frozen cold.

I look out through the lock into the darkless night, and the hugeness of the galaxy took my breath away.

At night the grackle Love will start To shriek and shrill, Nor will he once be still Till he has wide awake the backward heart. So selfish Love, Go hush; Feathers and claws take off Or seek some bush.

Sleep on and on, war's over soon. Drop the silly, harmless toy, pick up the moon. Lullaby.