Quotes About Night

The good news is when you open up in Vegas, you have a lot of friends, because they all come over to see your opening night.

I love Las Vegas. I like that Las Vegas has everything. Everything and anything you want to do, you can do in Las Vegas. You can pretty much do it all day and all night if you want to.

The building I most admire is the Doges Palace in Venice, both by day and by night. Looking at it from the lagoon, it resembles a floating kilim carpet. I love all the bridges which connect houses, people, gardens and palaces. I also love moats to isolate yourself. A ha-ha for secrecy, as in every English country garden.

Black bears, though, are not fearsome. I encountered one on the road to my house in Vermont, alone at night. I picked up two stones just in case, but I wasn't afraid of him. I felt a hunter's exhilaration and a brotherly feeling.

Natten har kommit in, sötaktig, tvekande. Man ser den inte, men den finns där, den beslöjar lamporna; man andas in någonting tjockt i luften: det är den. (s. 55)

jag vet på förhand att dagen är tillspillogiven. Jag kommer inte att göra någonting bra förrän kanske natten faller på. Det beror på solen; den kastar ett svagt guldskimmer över den smutsvita rök som hänger i luften över järnvägen, den silar in i mitt rum, blond och blek och ritar på bordet fyra matta, falska reflexer.

C'est la nuit, qui abolit tout, fatigues et passions. Les opprimés dorment, les révoltés aussi; le monde est enseveli, l'histoire reprend haleine. Il reste, dans une bulle de lumière entourée de néant, cette élite qui veille, tout occupée de ses cérémonies.

And then more quiet, silence so deep it almost drowned out the roar of the night music that pounded away in my secret self.

It's that moon again, slung so fat and low in the tropical night, calling out across a curdled sky and into the quivering ears of that dear old voice in the shadows, the Dark Passenger, nestled snug in the backseat of the Dodge K-car of Dexter's hypothetical soul. That rascal moon, that loudmouthed leering Lucifer, calling down across the empty sky to the dark hearts of the night monsters below, calling them away to their joyful playgrounds.

Hello there, officer, just out for a walk. Lovely evening for a dismemberment, isn't it?

the only light in this tiny-mooned night comes from the windows of the apartment building, a matching purple halo from each window, a dozen televisions all tuned to the pointless, empty, idiotic unreality o the same reality show, everyone watching in vacuous lockstep as true reality cruises slowly past outside licking its chops

Weren't we all crazy in our sleep? What was sleep, after all, but the process by which we dumped our insanity into a dark subconscious pit and came out on the other side ready to eat cereal instead of the neighbor's children?

Dexter did not kick the can. And now Dexter is It. Again. You may wonder, how can this be? How can Dexter's night hunt be reduced to this? Always before there has been some frightful twisted predator awaiting the special attention of frightful twisted Dexter—and here I am, stalking an empty Chef Boyardee ravioli can that is guilty of nothing worse than bland sauce.

a huge, reddish-yellow moon, a bloated, simpering, bloodthirsty moon, and the first sight of it turned every inch of my skin into a chilled carpet of goose bumps, all the hairs on my back and arms stood up and howled, and running through every corridor of Castle Dexter was a small and dark footman carrying orders to every Knight of the Night to Go Now and Do It.

On this night we arrived at the elementary school where the meetings were held with a few minutes to spare, and we sat in the car quietly. Cody liked to wait until just before the meeting started before he went inside, probably because Blending In was still a very unpleasant strain for him.

I went to bed and slid immediately into sleep, visions of dollar bills dancing in my head. They were all waving good-bye. It

IT'S THAT MOON AGAIN, SLUNG SO FAT AND LOW IN THE tropical night, calling out across a curdled sky and into the quivering ears of that dear old voice in the shadows, the Dark Passenger, nestled snug in the backseat of the Dodge K-car of Dexter's hypothetical soul.

But first we had to get on board Raul's yacht silently and alive, and to do that we had to approach it without being seen. So far, we had come up with no way to do that, other than go-take-a-look-and-see-what's-what. If it had been up to me, this casual plan of attack would not have been plan B—not even C. I don't like to improvise. When I slide out into the night for the purpose of making Mischief, I need to have a plan, and I need to stick with it. Beginning

looked some more. Beside the ship, cargo cranes reared up into the night sky like abandoned props from Star Wars. A

And as the night dragged on, so did the terrible, dreary introspection. Had I been misleading myself my entire life?

was at a loss. All right, then, it was clearly time to give up, accept my fate, throw myself on the mercy of the court, assume the role of Dexter, quiet family man and former Dark Avenger. Resign myself to the idea that I would never again feel the hard cool touch of the moonlight on my electrified nerve endings as I slid through the night like the avatar of cold, sharp steel.

Yes, I have a great deal of faith, Reverend—in human greed and stupidity, and in the sweetness of sharp steel on a moonlit night.

Around him the chorus had begun, great swarms of creatures that he guessed to be insects, frogs maybe, everything else in this infernal country that had a voice. Why night? he thought. They don't say a thing all day long. The sun goes down and they have some kind of contest to see who can croak and buzz the loudest. Just to keep us awake, I guess. Revenge for slapping at them all day, killing their cousins.

that since Cecilia's suicide, the Lisbons could hardly wait for night to forget themselves in sleep.