Quotes About Night

And oft I harked into the night of the Land; but there was nowhere any sound, or disturbing of the aether, to trouble me.

The perfect stillness of the night was thrilled by a more solemn silence. The darkness held a presence that was all the more felt because it was not seen. I could not any more have doubted that HE was there than that I was. Indeed, I felt myself to be, if possible, the less real of the two.

and Lublamai no longer thought of screaming but only of watching as those dark markings rolled and boiled in perfect symetry across the wings like clouds in a night sky above, in water below.

The moon made horns, the sky was gnarly. The cults were skittish.

Maybe it was always that way and everyone has always been forever waking in a flustered confusion deep at night trying to believe that the awful sound they think woke them was nothing, or was the nervous bark of a dog, not the sound of violence or of a child weeping in the kind of desolation or terror that demands intervention

He glanced beyond the walls, at the strange night, in which gods were ignored and memories were out hunting the future.

The night was without stars or horizon. The sea and sky bled ink into each other.

The costumes raised memories of the Night of the Kinken Shards, when the New Quill Party had overrun the khepri ghetto in a storm of murder, shattering spit-sculptures in the Plaza of Statues, stamping the mindless males and butchering the women until they trod a ground of glass needles, ichor, blood.

But oh what beauty! What speed! A chariot of night in panic flight From Our Royal Proclamation of the rites Of day! And riding out Our procession Of fantasy We slaked an ancient Vestigial greed shriveled by ages of dormancy Till the eyes exhausted by glorious pageantries Returned to rest on that puny Legend of the life-jacket stowed away Of all places under my seat.

That's why scripting is important—you've got to think about the specific behavior that you'd want to see in a tough moment, whether the tough moment takes place in a Brazilian railroad system or late at night in your own snack-loaded pantry.

She put on some music. Drum and flute, I think. She played it soft, because it was dreadfully late, a time when all good men and women, or at least the practical ones, had gone to bed. Then she danced for me.

Spices why must you always compare. Each desire in the world is different, as is each love. You who were born in the world's dawning know this far better than I. Answer. Weigh it yourself: To him I will give one night, to you the rest of my life, whatever you choose it to be, one hundred years on the island or a single moment, conflagration and consuming, in Shampati's fire. As

And night, free at last, stirred, stretching, feral.

Death is a flock of blackbirds low over muddy streets in war-torn Sarajevo. Dirt-stained walls yearn for all that is night. Elegies fall like raw silk. If there is a way it is here. Salt and ash.

Elvis, stop dat! You know it is taboo to whistle at night. You will attract a spirit.

It was queer the way things crept: the night, and these feelings. One was brought up to scorn the tendency to despair. But it seemed that the darkness knew this, and found a way to reach one nevertheless. It was patient and subtle, gauging the heart's output of light. Her confusion grew, the heart lucent and the mind lucifugous

London was perfectly prepared to give him a night out of anywhere on earth, and yet all he asked was to come home.

Oh, I have this feud going with the L.A. Unified School District, because I keep getting these phone calls saying my daughter keeps missing classes, I mean, at all hours of the night, I had like, two calls this morning and I keep calling saying I haven't got a daughter!

That's what keeps me up at three in the morning: Who's looking at reviews of Cabin Boy right now?

Tucker had missed the sheer expanse of sky at night, the tiny cluster of seven sisters, Orion's sword, and the drinking gourd that aimed north. The moon was a gibbous, barely there, as if chewed away. The sky stretched black in every direction. Clouds blocked the stars, lending an unfathomable depth to the air. The tree line was gone and hilltops blended with the black tapestry of night. It was country dark. He closed his eyes, feeling safe.

The element of uncertainty is one of night's special pleasures.

The graveyard shift was his favorite time of night.

And those who were awake and walking the streets were a fascinating blend of the wild, the lost, and the forgotten. Very few of whom would be missed if they were to meet Allan in a dark alley.

I don't like you being there at night alone," Bonnie told her. "You should come over here and drink my wine." Harper shuddered. "No wine. Ever again. I'm on the wagon." "Coffee then," Bonnie said. "Chamomile tea. I don't care. I want to watch you being safe.