Harriet Elizabeth Prescott Spofford Quotes

The good news of suffering is that it brings us to the end of ourselves - a purpose it has certainly served in my life. It brings us to the place of honesty, which is the place of desperation, which is the place of faith, which is the place of freedom.

Moon appears to shine and light the sky with the help of some fireflies, wonder how they have the power to shine?

There's the moon asking to stay long enough for the clouds to fly me away

During the days in detention, I thought most about the moon.

The poet who walks by moonlight is conscious of a tide in his thought which is to be referred to lunar influence.

Stars veil their beauty soon / Beside the glorious moon, / When her full silver light / Doth make the whole earth bright.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim gray sands with light, Far off by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night, Weaving olden dances, Mingling hands and mingling glances Till the moon has taken flight; To and fro we leap And chase the frothy bubbles, While the world is full of troubles And is anxious in its sleep. . . .

It's the moon that makes it so still, weaving some mystery.

It was a full moon and, shining on all the snow, it made everything almost as bright as day -- only the shadows were rather confusing.

The truth will set you free. But not until it is finished with you.

There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone. There is an off-focus light cast by the moon, and the streetlights are part of the spotlight apparatus on a bare stage set up for you to walk through. You get a feeling of being listened to, so you talk aloud, softly, to see how it sounds.

the year she had run fleetly through the dewy grass under the moon- the night of wine, when dreams condensed out of thin air like the nightmilk of fantasy.

a full moon is a flashlight so everyone can see your drama!

Witch, do this for me, Find me a moon made of longing. Then cut it sliver thin, and having cut it, hang it high above my beloved's house, so that she may look up tonight and see it, and seeing it, sigh for me as I sigh for her, moon or no moon.

The summer moon hung full in the sky. For the time being it was the great fact of the world.

We ran as if to meet the moon.

Should at that moment the full moon Step forth upon the hill, And memories hard to bear at noon, By moonlight harder still, Form in the shadows of the trees, - Things that you could not spare And live, or so you thought, yet these All gone, and you still there, A man no longer what he was, Not yet the thing he planned.

Midnight, and the clock strikes. It is Christmas Day, the werewolves birthday, the door of the solstice still wide enough open to let them all slink through.

The moon was gone, but to the magician's eyes the unicorn was the moon, cold and white and very old, lighting his way to safety, or to madness.

When the moon is shining the cripple becomes hungry for a walk

They danced by the light of the moon.

Let the moon shine on the in thy solitary walk; and let the misty mountain-winds be free to blow against thee.

I responded to the gravity of an invisible moon at my core, and I undertook journeys I had not expected to take.

The moon, too, abases her subjects, but in the daytime she is ridiculous. Your dissatisfactions, on the other hand, arrive through the mailslot with loving regularity, white and blank, expansive as carbon monoxide. No day is safe from news of you, walking about in Africa maybe, but thinking of me.

Does not any limit imposed upon one inspire a desire to go beyond it? Does not our keenest suffering arise when our free will is crossed?