Quotes About Night

Tiger! Tiger! burning bright in the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

O Earth, O Earth, return! Arise from out the dewy grass; Night is worn; And the morn Rises from the slumbrous mass.

The moon like a flowerIn heaven's high bower,With silent delight,Sits and smiles on the night.

God Appears and God is LightTo those poor Souls who dwell in Night,But does a Human Form DisplayTo those who Dwell in Realms of day.

Like a fiend in a cloud,With howling woe,After night I do crowd,And with night will go.

My specter around me night and dayLike a wild beast guards my way.My emanation far withinWeeps incessantly for my sin.

Tyger! Tyger! burning brightIn the forests of the night,What immortal hand or eyeCould frame thy fearful symmetry?In what distant deeps or skiesBurnt the fire of thine eyes?On what wings dare he aspire?What the hand dare seize the fire?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

Whatever flames upon the nightMan's own resinous heart has fed.

The unpurged images of day recede;The Emperor's drunken soldiery are abed;Night resonance recedes, night-walkers' songAfter great cathedral gong.

The night can sweat with terror as beforeWe pieced our thoughts into philosophy,And planned to bring the world under a rule,Who are but weasels fighting in a hole.

theseare the desolate, dark weekswhen nature in its barrennessequals the stupidity of man.The year plunges into nightand the heart plungeslower than night.

Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-ey'd bat,With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing,Or where the beetle windsHis small but sullen horn.

then to the dance, and make the sober moon... witness of joys that shun the sights of noon.

Heed not the night; a summer lodge amid the wild is mine - 'Tis shadowed by the tulip-tree, 'tis mantled by the vine.

The sad and solemn night Hath yet her multitude of cheerful fires.

It was the nature of the thing:No moon outlives its leaving night,No sun its day. And I went onRich in the loss of all I singTo the threshold of waking light,To larksong and the live, gray dawn.So night by night, my life has gone.

And it would be nice if the roof was a bit stronger. Then the peacocks wouldn't keep falling through. I don't mind during the day, but I hate waking up at night to find a peacock in bed with me.

The dark world seemed to lie stricken beneath the cold moon and the lidless stars.

And I saw surfing that day - by Leslie Wong, among others - that made my chest hurt: long moments of grace under pressure that felt etched deep in my being: what I wanted, somehow, more than anything else. That night, while my family slept, I lay awake on the bamboo-framed couch, heart pounding with residual adrenaline, listening restlessly to the rain.

Were there darker provinces of night he would have found them. —CORMAC MCCARTHY, Child of God, 1973

As night deepened all he could see was the shifting line of fire, like some malfunction in the wiring of the world itself, as if the very night had combusted and was creeping incrementally toward him.

a moving river of light that flowed above the dark water like its negative image and attained a transient and fragile dominion over the provinces of night. BOOK THREE

He stayed out of the house, he was much of the time in the woods, he felt like some animal half domesticated but ultimately unable to resist the feral ways of the forest. The spring nights were fecund and warm and alive, and there were nights he did not come in at all.