Quotes About Night

What's the matter with you tonight? he asked when we were out of earshot of Stirling and Co. I told you. No, he said, it isn't just the murder tonight. Hell, I've seen you kill people and be less upset afterwards. What's wrong?

Do the gods sleep well at night? I think maybe they do.

I gave of myself to the night and the night filled me

lay on my back in the dark. He was doing the same. "Edward," I asked. "Hmm," he said. "Are you a side sleeper, or a back sleeper?" "Back." "I'm a side sleeper, so no spooning, I guess." "What?" I laughed and turned over on my side. "Good night, Edward." "Good night, Anita." We slept.

Jean-Claude was standing by the door. He said, "I almost had you, my little animator." I glanced at his face and quickly down. "Almost doesn't count, you blood-sucking bastard." Jean-Claude threw back his head and laughed. His laughter followed me out into the night, like velvet rubbing along my spine.

If we can get everyone all tucked in safe and sound before dawn, all things will be possible.

Maybe this is hell, I thought: alone in my house in the middle of the night, stuck in an endless loop of thermal discomfort.

It was freezing and dark out, and Miriam's house was homey and warm, and the idea of not being alone another night sounded rather nice.

Imagination was all very well in the daylight, but it was an uncomfortable thing late at night.

I am an owl, bird of the night. I see everything. I know everything.

The night sky stretched on forever above me, the stars flung like glass beads and pearls on a black velvet cloak.

One night the cook served us beans and more beans for dinner. Instead of sleeping, we farted all night long, which caused

I felt once again the unease of arriving at night in an unknown city--that faint sour panic which seems to cling to a place until one has found oneself a bed.

Night odours come drifting from woods and gardens; sweet musks and sharp green acids. In the sky the fat stars bounce up and down, rhythmically, as we trudge along. Glow-worms, brighter than lamps or candles, spike the fields with their lemon fires, while huge horned beetles stumble out of the dark and buzz blindly around our heads.

I found out that the treatment for restless leg syndrome is a nice, tidy dose of Klonopin, a beautiful little orange tablet, every night. After I got my prescription, every night I got to drift away to sleep on a delicious benzo cloud.

The night air moved up towards the Downs, washing over sea and orchard. I breathed it in, and thought that henceforth, loneliness would smell to me like fermenting apples.

What time is it? Time? Time. Oh, She said. A quarter to four. Mr. Markham, something terrible has happened. She didn't have to tell me that. Something perfectly dreadful had happened, by God. Someone had called me in the middle of the bloody night.

When the window turned dark, it was presumably night; when it grew blue again, I guessed that morning had come.

that's where Fredric Brown spent his later years." "Fredric Brown? Our Fredric Brown?" "We were on the bus together." "You and Fredric Brown." "Right." "On a bus in Tucson." "When he was trying to work out a plot," I said, "he would ride buses all night, and thoughts would come to him." "I'll bet they would. 'Why am I up so late? What am I doing on this broken-down rattletrap?

Now I say two prayers a day. I say please in the morning and thank you every night.

Pleasure Cruise for 137 Corpses" The fire broke out in the ship's writing-room at 2:30 AM. While the passengers and most of the crew slept soundly, the flames raced through the ship. In an unbelievably

And so we've had another night Of poetry and poses And each man knows he'll be alone When the sacred ginmill closes. —DAVE VAN RONK

and all at once it seemed that past and present had joined again without any divisions in it, and that all my memories and impressions had ordered themselves into one complete pattern whose metaphor was always the shining city of the disinherited — a city now trying softly to spread the sticky prismatic wings of a new-born dragonfly on the night.

One night he woke to the soughing of great wings and saw a bat-like creature with the head of a violin resting upon the bedrail.