Quotes About Night

Desejei dilatar a noite para a encher de sonhos.

She walked with Bertram; she walked rather like a stag, with a little give of the ankles, fanning herself, majestic, silent, with all her senses roused, her ears pricked, snuffing the air, as if she had been some wild, but perfectly controlled creature taking its pleasure by night.

Richard has improved. You are right, said Sally. I shall go and talk to him. I shall say goodnight. What does the brain matter, said Lady Rosseter, getting up, compared with the heart? I will come, said Peter, but he sat on for a moment. What is this terror? what is this ecstasy? he thought to himself. What is it that fills me with extraordinary excitement? It is Clarissa, he said. For there she was.

If I have to wait, I read; if I wake in the night, I feel along the shelf for a book. Swelling, perpetually augmented, there is a vast accumulation of unrecorded matter in my head.

stopping to exclaim at the beauty of the cabbage leaves in the moonlight

The night is not a tumultuous black ocean in which you sink or sail as a star

It had seemed so safe, thinking of her. Ghost, air, nothingness, a thing you could play with easily and safely at any time of day or night, she had been that...Suddenly, the empty drawing-room steps, the frill of the chair inside, the puppy tumbling on the terrace, the whole wave and whisper of the garden became like curves and arabesques flourishing round a centre of complete nothingness.

She stood there: she listened. She heard the names of the stars.

He was afraid of touching his own wrist. He never attempted to sleep on his left side, even in those dismal hours of the night when the insomniac longs for a third side after trying the two he has.

The summer night was starless and stirless, with distant spasms of silent lightning.

At the hotel we had separate rooms, but in the middle of the night she came sobbing into mine, and we made it up very gently. You see, she had absolutely nowhere else to go.

O my Carmen, my Carmen! Something, something those something nights And the stars, and the cars, and the bars and the barmen ~

Shall we take these candles with us and sit for a while on the piazza, or do you want to go to bed and nurse that tooth?" Nurse that tooth.

This night the password was silence.

Oh my Carmen, my little Carmen! Something, something, those something nights, And the stars, and the cars, and the bars, and the barmen - And, O my charmin', our dreadful fights. And the something town where so gaily, arm in Arm we went, and our final row, And the gun I killed you with, O my Carmen, The gun I am holding now.

Van... even then, at fourteen, recognized that the old myths, which willed into helpful being a whirl of worlds (no matter how silly and mystical) and situated them within the gray matter of the star-suffused heavens, contained, perhaps, a glowworm of strange truth. His nights in the hammock... were now haunted not so much by the agony of his desire for Ada, as by that meaningless space overhead, underhead, everywhere, the demon counterpart of divine time...

This night the password was silence, and the soldier at the gate responded with silence to Cincinnatus' silence and let him pass; likewise at all the other gates.

the moon stood watch over the familiar statue of a poet that looked like a snowman

against the background of that black velvet which lines at night the underside of the eyelids, Marthe's face appeared as in a locket

O my Carmen, my little Carmen! Something, something those something nights, And the stars, and the cars, and the bars, and the     barmen – And, O my charmin', our dreadful fights. And the something town where so gaily, arm in Arm, we went, and our final row, And the gun I killed you with, O my Carmen, The gun I am holding now. (Drew his .32 automatic, I guess, and put a bullet through his moll's eye.) Fourteen

At night, my dreams rhyme, and all day I have an aftertaste of insomnia.

There are nights when as soon as I lie down My bed sails off to Russia.

How would you say "delightful talk" in Russian?' 'How would you say "good night"?' Oh, that would be: Bessónnitza, tvoy vzor oonýl i stráshen; lubóv' moyá, otstóopnika prostée. (Insomnia, your stare is dull and ashen, my love, forgive me this apostasy.)

I love you. Infinitely and inexpressibly. I've woken up in the middle of the night and here I am writing this. My love, my happiness.