Quotes About Night

She wondered why there were only two kinds of weather: hardship in the morning, and tribulation at night.

It appeared before her one night in the attic like a spark, a small and simple truth

When the work was done, and the day's punishments, the night waited as an arena for their true loneliness and despair.

the full moon, the white beacon that so often agitated the slave with a mind to run.

On nights when Tom Bird felt separate from his life's design, he shared stories of the Great Spirit. The Great Spirit lived in all things—the earth, the sky, the animals and forests—flowing through and connecting them in a divine thread.

When the work was done, and the day's punishments, the night waited as an arena for their true loneliness and despair.

said. "It was full moon when we picked, but there was always blood.

The vast fields burst with hundreds of thousands of white bolls, strung like stars in the sky on the clearest of clear nights.

His cousin Freddy brought him in on the heist one hot night in early June. It was such a pretty block and on certain nights when it was cool and quiet it was as if you didn't live in the city at all.

She gulped the air like water, the night sky the best meal she had ever had, the starts made succulent and ripe after her time below.

George sawed with his fiddle, the notes swirling up into night like sparks gusted from a fire.

In the sway of a sudden reverie among the furrows or while untangling the mysteries of an early-morning dream. In the middle of a song on a warm Sunday night. Then it comes, always—the overseer's cry, the call to work, the shadow of the master, the reminder that she is only a human being for a tiny moment across the eternity of her servitude.

It was a night in late August, a night that rekindled in rattling windows and tree branch palsy that lost recollection of autumn, misplaced for the succession of bright summer distractions, trapped heat in small rooms and sweaty underarms.

The stars looked like nail heads in the sky--pull a few of them out and the darkness would fall.

Outside, the dark brushed the city and the wind unleashed the snow

The fire had burnt so low that it was only a vague red glow in the night...out of the dark his voice came...

the black, two-wheeled

A yellow fog swirls past the window-pane As night descends upon the fabled street: A lonely hansom splashes through the rain, And ghostly gas lamps fail at twenty feet. Here though the world explode, these two survive, And it is always eighteen ninety-five.

the dewy night unrolls a heaven thickly jewelled with sparkling stars

the dank night is sweeping down from the sky and the setting stars incline our heads to sleep.

and why the winter suns so rush to bathe themselves in the sea and what slows down the nights to a long lingering crawl...

Then, like ravening wolves in a black mist, when the belly's lawless rage has driven them blindly forth, and their whelps at home await them with thirsty jaws, through swords, through foes we pass to certain death, and hold our way to the city's heart; black night hovers around with sheltering shade.

Ponto nox incubat atra.

Night reigned: all through the world tied bodies were harvesting tranquil slumber.