Quotes About Night

Her smile is like summer moonlight-beautiful and magical, with a fire that could melt the night.

Oh, the summer night, Has a smile of light, And she sits on a sapphire throne.

Goodnight moon. Sweet dreams. Smile kindly upon this little blue gum ball of us while we sleep.

Laughter is day, and sobriety is night; a smile is the twilight that hovers gently between both, more bewitching than either.

It's cold out there, colder than a ticket taker's smile at the Ivar Theatre on a Saturday night.

My last thought in the night end with you and my morning smile is caused by your thought. I wonder if ever life would be so special without your love.

Some words were left unsaid Oh Layla, as you slept peacefully in my arms, and the stars kept on peeping into the room to glance at your smile!

It's true. I've seen it when the crescent moon shone bright on a cold, dark night. The darker the night, the brighter God's smile.

It is so easy to be hopeful in the daytime when you can see the things you wish on. But it was night, it stayed night. Night was striding across nothingness with the whole round world in his hands . . . They sat in company with the others in other shanties, their eyes straining against cruel walls and their souls asking if He meant to measure their puny might against His. They seemed to be staring at the dark, but their eyes were watching God.

Du kannst dir nicht vorstellen, wie sehr ich ringe um ein Quäntchen Schreiben, um einen Hauch Ich, nein, kannst Du nicht, auch wenn Du vieles kannst, das wird Dir nicht gelingen- doch nachts die Nase an mein duftendes, winziges neues Söhnchen zu halten und so einzuschlafen, wer will das ersetzen?

O moon that makes restless the hearts of men, That lays an insane beam upon their mind, And laughing makes men mad. - Sunday Night: Truro

Like the hills under dusk you fall away from the light: you deepen: the green light darkens and you are nearly lost: only so much light as stars keep manifests your face: I feel the total night in myself rave for the light along your lips.

I breathe the night, go to bed with the rest of my pack, and wake up in the morning with a sawed-off past and a future I can't imagine.

Australian Aborigines slept with their dogs for warmth on cold nights, the coldest being a "three dog night." —WIKIPEDIA

You can appreciate things at four in the morning that would go right past you during the day.

The sky looked really great when nearly the entire country was blacked out. Of course, now it looked dangerous, too. I wondered if it would ever be just the night sky again, and not a black sea, full of sharks. Anyway

Everything's finished. Riders gallop black horses, a tyrant composes a sentence of death with grammatical errors. Youth dissolves in a day; girls' faces freeze into medallions, despair turns to rapture and the hard fruits of stars in the sky ripen like grapes, and beauty endures, shaken, unperturbed, and God is and God dies; night returns to us in the evening, and the dawn is hoary with dew.

Ireland in shades of black and green under the gibbous moon. Ireland under the canopy of grey cloud, under the crow's wing and the helicopter blade. A night ride over the Lagan valley and the bandit country of South Armagh. The music in my head was Mahler's Ninth Symphony, which opens with a hesitant syncopated motif evocative of Mahler's irregular heartbeat.

He puts on Sam Cooke's Night Beat.

I want to be closer to the sky. Closer to the pink moon. And closer to the stars that shine over South Bend, which turn out to be the very same ones that twinkle over Brooklyn.

There is nothing more peaceful than New York City at three A.M. It's the rest period before the madness begins at dawn.

In visions of the night, like dropping rain, Descend the many memories of pain

I know the stars by heart, the armies of the night, and there in the lead the ones that bring us snow or the crops of summer, bring us all we have-- our great blazing kings of the sky, I know them, when they rise and when the fall . . .

radiant dreams are passing in the night, the memories throb with sorrow, joy with pain . . . it is pain to dream and see desires slip through the arms, a vision lost for ever winging down the moving drifts of sleep.