May Sarton Quotes

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.

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

This is night, Diddykins. That's what we call it when it goes all dark like this.

The light, the sky, the water, they were all things you looked *through* during the day. At night, they were things you looked *into*. You looked *into* the stars, you looked *into* dark rollers and the surprising platinum flash of their caps.

Is it snowing where you are? All the world that I see from my tower is draped in white and the flakes are coming down as big as pop-corns. It's late afternoon - the sun is just setting (a cold yellow colour) behind some colder violet hills, and I am up in my window seat using the last light to write to you.

Over the wine-dark sea.

The approach of night The skies yet blushing with departing light, When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade, And the low sun had lengthen'd ev'ry shade.

The white face of the winter day came sluggishly on, veiled in a frosty mist; and the shadowy ships in the river slowly changed to black substances; and the sun, blood-red on the eastern marshes behind dark masts and yards, seemed filled with the ruins of a forest it had set on fire.

There was no wind; there was no passing shadow on the deep shade of the night; there was no noise. The city lay behind him, lighted here and there, and starry worlds were hidden by the masonry of spire and roof that hardly made out any shapes against the sky. Dark and lonely distance lay around him everywhere, and the clocks were faintly striking two.

Off the coast and I'm headed nowhere

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean

...and the night is so deep and dark that I wonder if the sun will ever come up.

Today on the way home, it snows. Big, soft caressing flakes fall onto our skin like cold moths; the air fills with feathers.

The sea appears all golden. Beneath the sun-lit sky.

I love staring out toward the ocean and away from anything manmade.

The snow had begun in the gloaming, and busily all the night had been heaping field and highway with a silence deep and white.

I write music better in the winter, I prefer making music when it's dark.

A swift carriage, of a dark night, rattling with four horses over roads that one can’t see--that’s my idea of happiness.

Darkness now rose, as daylight sunk, and brought in low'ring Night her shadowy offspring.

No cloud above, no earth below, A universe of sky and snow.

I got fascinated by the idea that our universe itself is comprised mostly of dark matter and dark energy. Things that we can't perceive at all, and we've only discovered that relatively recently. So it's almost as if our universe is the foam on the ocean of things that we can't see, or know, or perceive, and yet we feel the affects of those things right and left.