Quotes About Night

We fumed and screamed in our mountain nook, mad drunken Americans in the mighty land. We were on the roof of America and all we could do was yell, I guess--across the night...

This was a manuscript of the night we couldn't read.

Ah, it was a fine night, a warm night, a wine-drinking night, a moony night, and a night to hug your girl and talk and spit and be heavengoing. This we did.

And all the insects ceased in honor of the moon.

God was gone; it was the silence of his departure. It was a rainy night. It was the myth of the rainy night. Dean was popeyed with awe. This madness would lead nowhere. I didn't know what was happening to me, and I suddenly realized it was only the tea that we were smoking; Dean had bought some in New York. It made me think that everything was about to arrive - the moment when you know all and everything is decided forever.

and the stars were icicles of mockery

At night in this part of the West the stars, as I had seen them in Wyoming, were as big as Roman Candles and as lonely as the Prince who's lost his ancestral home and journeys across the spaces trying to find it again, and knows he never will.

At night I closed my eyes and saw my bones threading the mud of my grave.

O love, fled me - or do telepathies cross sympathetically in the night?

Somewhere in the vast jewelry of the Long Island night we walked, in wind and rain...

and tonight the stars'll be out, and don't you know that God is Pooh Bear?

the great black bird broods outside my window in the high dark night waiting to enfold me when I leave the house tomorrow only I'm going to dodge it successfully by sheer animalism and ability and even exhilaration, so goodnight

All around me were the noise of the crazy gold-coast city. And this was my Hollywood career - this was my last night in Hollywood, and I was spreading mustard on my lap in back of a parking-lot john.

We also spent entire nights in bed and I told her my dreams. I told her about the big snake of the world that was coiled in the earth like a worm in an apple and would someday nudge up a hill to be thereafter known as Snake Hill and fold out upon the plain, a hundred miles long and devouring as it went along. I told her this snake was Satan. What's going to happen? she squealed; meanwhile she held me tight.

Lonely as America, a throatpierced sound in the night.

I looked up at the sky; the pure, wonderful stars were still there, burning

This was a manuscript of the night we couldn't read - Sal Paradise, On The Road

The whole mad swirl of everything that was to come began then; it would mix up all my friends and all I had left of my family in a big dust cloud over the American Night.

If he can be call'd meek who has no wishes --or hiding who needs never be found-- or scared who never attacks--- forgotten, who watches up the night--- If he can be called he, who has no self Writes One is All On every wall.

the stars are fixed in rooftops like ink.

This was a manuscript of the night we couldn't read - Sal Paradise

Meditate outdoors. The dark trees at night are not really the dark trees at night, it's only the golden eternity.

And so we picked up our bags, he the trunk with his one good arm and I the rest, and staggered up to the cable-car stop; in a moment rolled down the hill with our legs dangling to the sidewalk from the jiggling shelf, two broken-down heroes of the Western night.

At night in this part of the West the stars, as I had seen them in Wyoming, were as big as Roman Candles and as lonely as the Prince of the Dharma who's lost his ancestral grove and journeys across the spaces between points in the handle of the Big Dipper, trying to find it again.