Quotes About Night

Flirtation – After all, there's no need to say anything at first. An orange, peeled and quartered, flares like a tulip on a wedgwood plate. Anything can happen. Outside the sun has rolled up her rugs and night strewn salt across the sky. My heart is humming a tune I haven't heard in years! Quiet's cool flesh– let's sniff and eat it. There are ways to make of the moment a topiary so the pleasure's in walking through.

Sometimes, on a very clear night,' the BFG said, 'and if I is swiggling my ears in the right direction' – and here he swivelled his great ears upwards so they were facing the ceiling – 'if I is swiggling them like this and the night is very clear, I is sometimes hearing faraway music coming from the stars in the sky.' A queer little shiver passed through Sophie's body. She sat very quiet, waiting for more.

It was no good. The moonbeam was like a silver blade slicing through the room on to her face. The

Most people—and especially small children—are often quite scared of being out of doors alone in the moonlight. Everything is so deadly quiet, and the shadows are so long and black, and they keep turning into strange shapes that seem to move as you look at them, and the slightest little snap of a twig makes you jump.

frozen with fright. This was the witching hour all right. The tall black figure was coming her way. It was keeping very close to the houses across the street, hiding in the shadowy places where there was no moonlight.

Bucket was able to get rid of them so that Charlie could go to bed. 13

quiet, and the shadows are so long and black, and they keep turning into strange

AT LAST, SIR TERRY, WE MUST WALK TOGETHER. Terry took Death's arm and followed him through the doors and on to the black dessert under the endless night. THE END.

It was 5:30 in the morning. Healy and I were drinking coffee out of thick white mugs at the counter of a small diner on Route 20. I felt the way you feel when you've been up all night and drunk too much coffee. If I still smoked, I would have drunk too much coffee and smoked too many cigarettes and felt worse. It wasn't much in the way of consolation. But one makes do.

The power of the night, the press of the storm, the post of the foe; where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, yet, the strong man must go.

Their call log that night showed fewer than a third their usual number of calls, which made for an easy shift, but left Scott bored. Hence, their search for the unfindable noodle house, which Scott had begun to believe might not exist. Stephanie reached to start the car, but Scott stopped her. "Let's

After a bit, she said, "Do you believe in angels?" "No." "I do. That's why I go driving like this. I look for angels. They only come out at night.

Pitch hadn't missed any meals. The car swayed when he climbed out. The old man's phone rang nine times before he answered. The old man had staff to field calls, especially in the middle of the night, but he'd given Riley special access. His voice sounded phlegmy with sleep. "Hello? Who is this?" "Riley. Sorry to wake you, sir." The old man cleared his throat. "Let's hear it.

She told herself it was the dry night wind and lashing hair, the way her eyes filled when her lonely race finished, but it was always the same whether the air was dry or not, whether her hair was down or up, so she knew. For those few minutes running across the city, she could be and was herself, purely and truly herself, finding herself in those moments only to lose herself once more when she slowed, falling behind as her true self ran free somewhere ahead in the empty night—

Streetlamps and security lights blazed hot in the confined lane, giving the mist a purple-blue glow. Pike stopped outside Dru's house. A few windows glowed dull ocher in the surrounding houses, but most were dark and all were quiet. No one was awake. Even Jared's window was dark. Pike

We ran as if to meet the moon.

I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain - and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

The mind-is not the heart. I may yet live, as I know others live, To wish in vain to let go with the mind- Of cares, at night, to sleep; but nothing tells me That I need learn to let go with the heart.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street, But not to call me back or say good-bye; And further still at an unearthly height, A luminary clock against the sky Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. I have been one acquainted with the night.

He asked with the eyes more than the lips for a shelter for the night

Part of a moon was falling down the west, Dragging the whole sky with it to the hills. Its light poured softly in her lap. She saw And spread her apron to it. She put out her hand Among the harp-like morning-glory strings, Taut with the dew from garden bed to eaves, As if she played unheard the tenderness That wrought on him beside her in the night.

I have been one acquainted with the night.

There I elected to demur Beneath a low-slung juniper That like a blanket to my chin Kept some dew out and some heat in, Yet left me freely face to face All night with universal space.

People in their houses at night. These ordinary lives. Passing without their knowing it. I'd hoped to recapture something. The officer stared at him. The precious ordinary. I