John Milton Quotes

Suddenly the day was gone, night came out from under each tree and spread.

The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight.

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 sky grew darker, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of night.

The sun was set; the night came on apace, And falling dews bewet around the place; The bat takes airy rounds on leathern wings, And the hoarse owl his woeful dirges sings.

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.

Night had come on like the closing of a great but gentle eye.

Soon evening worked its way into the sky, and the city hunched itself down.

Night falls fast. Today is in the past.

Twilight drops her curtain down, and pins it with a star.

Men shut their doors against a setting sun.

It's not dark yet But it's getting there

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

Why is it called 'after dark' when it really is 'after light'?

Night wasn't so much falling as sharpening its claws.

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

The whisper of the dusk is night shedding its husk.

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

It's twilight. It’s the safest time of day for us. The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way...the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don’t you think?

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

Night was coming on in, borrowing the light. It had started out borrowing just a few cents worth of the light, but now it was borrowing thousands of dollars worth of the light every second. The light would soon be gone, the bank closed, the tellers unemployed, the bank president a suicide.

Finish, good lady; the bright day is done, And we are for the Dark.

I’ve always felt that night doesn’t fall. Night rises.

The night destroys the sun