Quotes About Night

What lurking temptations to forbidden tenderness find their hiding-places in a woman's dressing-gown, when she is alone in her room at night! With

He parked in a nearby street and walked out on to the bridge. Below him the lights of London spread away in a wash of low wattage, Their dimness gave the lie to the very vastless of the city. Bull heard its distant roar, its night-time sough, its terminal cough

The moon, like a flower in heaven's high bower, with silent delight sits and smiles on the night.

The morning comes, the night decays, the watchmen leave their stations.

Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright in the forests of the night...

God Appears & God is Light To those poor Souls who dwell in Night But does a Human Form Display To those who Dwell in Realms of day

Los Sexos nacidos del Orgullo y la Vergüenza florecieron en la mañana y en la noche murieron; mas la Piedad cambió la Muerte en Sueño; los Sexos se irguieron para obrar y llorar.

Every Night & every Morn Some to Misery are Born Every Morn and every Night Some are Born to sweet delight Some are Born to sweet delight Some are Born to Endless Night Auguries of Innocence By William Blake

The sun descending in the west, The evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest. And I must seek for mine. The moon, like a flower In heaven's high bower, With silent delight Sits and smiles on the night

My Spectre around me night & day Like a Wild beast guards my way My Emanation far within Weeps incessantly for my Sin

The Bat that flits at close of Eve Has left the Brain that wont Believe The Owl that calls upon the Night Speaks the Unbelievers fright

Every Night & every Morn Some to Misery are Born Every Morn and every Night Some are Born to sweet delight Some are Born to sweet delight Some are Born to Endless Night We are led to Believe a Lie When we see not Thro the Eye Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light God Appears & God is Light To those poor Souls who dwell in Night But does a Human Form Display To those who Dwell in Realms of day

Tyger, tyger, burning bright In the forest of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could Frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand dare seize the fire? And what shoulder and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And, when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand and what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain? In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? - The Tyger

Selfish father of men! Cruel, jealous, selfish fear! Can delight, Chained in night, The virgins of youth and morning bear. 'Does spring hide its joy When buds and blossoms grow? Does the sower Sow by night, Or the plowman in darkness plow? 'Break this heavy chain, That does freeze my bones around! Selfish, vain, Eternal bane, That free Love with bondage bound.

while the beasts of prey, Come from caverns deep, Viewed the maid asleep

I watched the day slip into night, noting the wondrous tonal transformations of the sunset on its dimmer switch, how blood-orange can shade imperceptibly into ice-blue on the knife-edge of the horizon, listening to the sea's interminable call for silence - shh, shh, shh.

Then, as I stood in that English garden on the soft early summer night, I felt a surge of pure well-being engulf my whole body. I felt a shivering current of happiness and benevolence flow through me.

It's just a moment, we die every night.

Unleashed! Alone, watching the May moon above the trees . At nine o'clock the park closes. You must be out of the lake, dressed, in your cars and going: they change into their street clothes in the back seats and move out among the trees . The "great beast" all removed before the plunging night, the crickets' black wings and hylas wake .

Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.

The whiskey died away in time and was renewed and died again, but the street ran on. From that night the thousand streets ran as one street, with imperceptible corners and changes of scene ...

Literature has the same impact as a match lit in the middle of a field in the middle of the night. The match illuminates relatively little, but it enables us to see how much darkness surrounds it.

Oíamos la oscuridad.

At night it is better still. I used to lie on the pallet in the hall waiting until I could hear them all asleep, so I could get up and go back to the bucket. It would be black, the shelf black, the still surface of the water a round orifice in nothingness, where before I stirred it awake with the dipper I could see maybe a star or two in the bucket, and maybe in the dipper a star or two before I drank. After that I was bigger, older.