Quotes About Night

During the late nights, try to walk in the empty streets with an empty mind! Light of wisdom will soon accompany you!

Magic of the nights is always much impressive than the magic of the days!

Make walks in the nights to benefit from the education of silence!

Night is the fatherland of the great inspirations.

No owl is afraid of the night, no snake of the swamp and no traitor of the treason!

On the Night of the Halloween, I have never seen any evil apparition or fearsome ghost, but politicians on TV! They are the real goblins and specters!

Thanks to the night, we long for the day; thanks to the day, we long for the night! The purpose of the opposites is to make us long for something! Thanks to the crowds, we long for the solitude; thanks to the solitude, we long for the crowds!

The scent of the morning is prepared by the night; the scent of the night is prepared by the day; everything helps everything!

Walk in the narrow streets after midnight under moonlight! Tranquillity is like a sugar for the mind; you think better in the silence of empty spaces!

We don't know Religion's death date but we know its birthday: The very night man experienced his first great fear of anything!

We like rain if the sun comes after it; we like night if the day comes after it; we like everything conditionally! We are conditional people!

At the end of the day, sleep is a barometer of your emotional health. And so if you're not in the right place where you need to be, then you're going to have voices keeping you up at night because you have to work through those issues.

This caterpillar rests on a pad of its own silk all day, with a leaf curled around it like a blanket. It comes out at night to eat. It grows about as long as your middle finger. Over winter, this caterpillar can be found in its pupa, among the litter on the ground, or on one of the trees it feeds on. It will look like an orange-brown piece of bark, with a silk thread holding it around the middle.

it was black as a sinner's heart once night fell,

One voice whispered Beloved . She spread her colors on the starshine to embrace this land he had given her, and there were no shadows to darken the Fire soaring across the sand. Only light, only joy. No one heard Elisel scream. Only the dragons saw her rise into the night sky like an arrow, mute after that one keening wail. It was two days before she returned to Skybowl. Long before that, they found Sioned.

Froi thought for a moment. "I never imagined I was looking for something in a woman. But if I did, I'd have to judge her by the way I felt lying beside her before I went to sleep at night and how I felt in the morning waking up to her.

Black is the color of night. White is the true color of death

The sky is black, so rich and thick it looks warm. It feels as if I can see for miles into that blackness, the stars glimmering white, and as my eyes adjust, there are millions of stars. Billions. And it is time to move on. I have no choice.

Good night, Seth." "So you're running again, then?" One of his boots thudded on the floor. "I'm not running." The other boot hit the floor. "Really?" "Really. It's just—" She stopped; she didn't have anything that would finish that sentence and be honest. "Maybe you should slow down, so I can catch you." He paused, waiting.

I stood beneath the moon a little longer, soft and safe. In that reflected light, the sun's harsh spirit dissolves to silver silk. The moon beds us, she fills our dreaming nights with immense possibility. The moon, giant mother, keeper of secrets, the one who says secrets aren't really necessary, that every truth is hers and she's big enough to hold them all. Somewhere

This tower, patched unevenly with black ivy, arose like a mutilated finger from among the fists of knuckled masonry and pointed blasphemously at heaven. At night the owls made of it an echoing throat; by day it stood voiceless and cast its long shadow.

Neka no? mora biti posljednja,i nešto mora biti što boli,uvijek.

O que importa não é passear de noite mas deixar a noite passear-se em nós.

INSÔNIA Envelhecem as horas, Entontecem ponteiros como punhais vazando insaciáveis relógios. O sono é um vidro onde se guardam cansaços de antes de termos nascido. Piso estilhaços desse vidro, tropeçam-me os olhos nas pestanas: um tropel de luz assusta um bando de aves sem asas. A noite, em mim, ganhou diurno vício: uma outra vez, tomei luar na veia.