Cree Summer Quotes

And at night I love to listen to the stars. It is like five hundred million little bells.

The night sky in Egypt is a swirling mass of stars so bright and numerous the sky seems to tremble with the ice-blue weight of them.

But my most favourite pursuit, after my daily exertions at the Foundry, was Astronomy. There were frequently clear nights when the glorious objects in the Heavens were seen in most attractive beauty and brilliancy.

There's no night without stars.

Out of sight above the house, the mirror moon reflected the sun of a day not yet dawned, shining the pale light of tomorrow on the yard and on the paper birches.

Whenever I do get to look out, it is glorious. Even the stars have a special brightness.

In any city with lots of skyscrapers, lots of skyline, the moon seems bigger than it is. It's called the moon illusion.

My favorite thing about New York is the view, the skyline.

You can enjoy stargazing just by going out and learning a couple constellations with your kids.

The thing I like about astronomy is being outside at night and seeing the stars in a dark sky. It makes you feel small.

I'm working to bring celestial objects like the sun and moon into the spaces that we inhabit.

Counting stars by candlelight all are dim but one is bright; the spiral light of Venus rising first and shining best, from the northwest corner of a brand-new crescent moon crickets and cicadas sing a rare and different tune.

Cammie: I never knew there were this many stars. Zach: I can't see them. I just see you.

Each night, Liesel would step outside, wipe the door, and watch the sky. Usually it was like spillage - cold and heavy, slippery and gray - but once in a while some stars had the nerve to rise and float, if only for a few minutes. On those nights, she would stay a little longer and wait. Hello, stars.

And when the fog's over and the stars and the moon come out at night it'll be a beautiful sight.

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

Night with her train of stars And her great gift of sleep.

See yonder fire! It is the moon slow rising o'er the eastern hill. It glimmers on the forest tips, and through the dewy foliage drips In little rivulets of light, and makes the heart in love with night.

Lie on your back and look at the stars.

The night folds her trembling hands over a weary world. Out of a pale blue rises the shining moon. My thoughts are flying to the stars like lonely swans.

The moon is setand the Pleiades; Middle ofthe night, time passes by,I lie alone.

Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none; / Look up a second time, and, one by one, / You mark them twinkling out with silvery light, / And wonder how they could elude the sight!

Harvest moon: around the pond I wander and the night is gone.

Up there we see everything, Oakland to the left, El Cerrito and Richmond to the right, Marin forward, over the Bay, Berkeley below, all red rooftops and trees of cauliflower and columbine, shaped like rockets and explosions, all those people below us, with humbler views; we see the Bay Bridge, clunkety, the Richmond Bridge, straight, low, the Golden Gate, red toothpicks and string, the blue between, the blue above, the gleaming white Land of the Lost/Superman's North Pole Getaway magic crystals that are San Francisco.

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