Edward Burnett Tylor Quotes

My hometown is a very boring city. There isn't a lot of industry - there are a lot of trees. It's not like Beijing where the sky is always dark. In my city the sky is blue and the sun shines.

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

...So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

Night falls fast. Today is in the past. Blown from the dark hill hither to my door Three flakes, then four Arrive, then many more.

Outside, daylight was bleeding slowly toward dusk.

The day is done; and slowly from the scene the stooping sun upgathers his spent shafts, and puts them back into his golden quiver!

I am very fond of sunsets. Come, let us go look at a sunset.

It was early evening when they walked outside, the sky the color of pink lemonade.

Night falls. Or has fallen. Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon, like a black sun behind cloud cover. Like smoke from an unseen fire, a line of fire just below the horizon, brushfire or a burning city. Maybe night falls because it’s heavy, a thick curtain pulled up over the eyes. Wool blanket.

The sun was slowly setting in the west, casting golden beams of light into the somber old room.

Twilight fell: The sky turned to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars.

Just as the setting sun turned the clouds to liquid gold.

the blue and cloudless day closes like the lid of a casket of jewels upon the violet rim of sea, and shuts out the light.

The sun was already declining and each of the trees held a premonition of night.

the redness had seeped from the day and night was arranging herself around us. Cooling things down, staining and dyeing the evening purple and blue black.

Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his sandal shoon.

The whisper of the dusk is night shedding its husk.

The sky slowly pulled up its blue dress to reveal night.

The sun was a toddler insistently refusing to go to bed: It was past eight thirty and still light.

We stay this way until twilight colours the window and the hour calls me home

... but the longest day hath its evening.

There is a lovely road that runs from Ixopo into the hills.

In that dilated moment after sunset when the sky holds all the light.

I'm sure partial to the evening,' Augustus said. 'The evening and the morning. If we just didn't have to have the rest of the dern day I'd be a lot happier.

The sacred lamp of day Now dipt in Western clouds his parting day.