Quotes About Night

Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make! Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added, Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter.

You must fight Death himself, though he come to you in pain or in joy; by the day, or the night; in safety or in peril! On your living soul I charge that you do not die - nay nor think of death - till this great evil be past.

There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves. The Count's eyes gleamed, and he said:— "Listen to them—the children of the night. What music they make!

For the dead travel fast.

When night fell, I listened to the Songs that the Moon and Stars were singing and I sang with them

Night fishing is best, when the fish are drawn to play in spots of bright Moonlight and are easy to see.

Ogni sera alle undici in punto, in qualsiasi luogo ti trovi e in qualsiasi situazione, uscirò all'aperto e nel cielo cercherò Sirio. Tu farai altrettanto e così i nostri pensieri, anche se saremo lontanissimi, anche se non ci saremo visti da tempo e ignoreremo tutto l'uno dell'altra, si ritroveranno lassù e staranno vicini.

On nights like this, when he rode out from the dark, silent house to the dark, deserted park, he could forget. He could be nothing but a solitary rider on a fast horse, wind in his face and the world open around him. No walls, no bars, no quiet weeping or screams or death. None of that could catch him. On a night like this, none of it could find him.

I'd left the apartment Eva shared with her best friend, Cary Taylor, only a couple of hours earlier, wanting to give her time to catch a few hours of sleep before she headed into work. We had been at each other all night, both of us too needy and greedy. But there'd been something else, too. An urgency on Eva's part that gnawed at me and left me uneasy.

I thought the most beautiful thing in the world must be shadow, the million moving shapes and cul-de-sacs of shadow. There was shadow in bureau drawers and closets and suitcases, and shadow under houses and trees and stones, and shadow at the back of people's eyes and smiles, and shadow, miles and miles and miles of it, on the night side of the earth.

The night sky is only a sort of carbon paper, Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars Letting in the light, peephole after peephole--- A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things. --from Insomniac, written April 1961

I need more than anything right now what is, of course, most impossible, someone to love me, to be with me at night when I wake up in shuddering horror and fear of the cement tunnels leading down to the shock room, to comfort me with an assurance that no psychiatrist can quite manage to convey.

I am inhabited by a cry. Nightly it flaps out Looking, with its hooks, for something to love I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here. --from The Moon and the Yew Tree, written 22 October 1961

I also had a dim idea that if I walked the streets of New York by myself all night something of the city's mystery and magnificence might rub off on me at last. But I gave it up.

She has folded Them back into her body as petals Of a rose close when the garden Stiffens and odours bleed From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower. The moon has nothing to be sad about, Staring from her hood of bone.

In the infinitesimal glow of the stars, the trees and flowers were strewing their cool odos. There was no moon.

Day now, night now, at head, side, feet, They stand their vigil in gowns of stone, Faces blank as the day I was born, Their shadows long in the setting sun That never brightens or goes down. And this is the kingdom you bore me to, Mother, mother. But no frown of mine Will betray the company I keep.

I thought the most beautiful thing in the world must be shadow, the million moving shapes and cul-de-sacs of shadow. There was shadow in bureau drawers and closets and suitcases, and shadow under houses and trees and stones, and shadow at the back of people's eyes and smiles, and shadow, miles and miles and miles of it, on the night side of the earth.

I also had a dim idea that if I walked the streets of New York by myself all night something of the city's mystery and magnificence might rub off on me at last.

The room blued into view, and I wondered where the night had gone.

A wi?c teraz b?d? rozmawia? ka?dej nocy. Z sob? sam?. Z ksi??ycem. B?d? chodzi?, tak jak dzi?, zazdro?nie strzeg?c swojej samotno?ci, w niebieskosrebrnej po?wiacie zimnego ksi??yca, migocz?cej cudownie na zaspach ?wie?ego ?niegu miriad? iskierek.

And he walked off down the path with his jaunty, independent stride. And I stood there where he left me, tremulous with love and longing, weeping in the dark. That night it was hard to get to sleep.

After that, I felt safer. I didn't want anything I said or did that night to be associated with me and my real name and coming from Boston.