Janet Flanner Quotes

If you could see the earth illuminated when you were in a place as dark as night, it would look to you more splendid than the moon.

Back of my forehead I feel tonight A whole sky full of stars. Under a western moon. Life is indeed lovely!

I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars.

How much more beautiful is the moon, Slanting down the gauffered branches of a plum-tree; The moon Wavering across a bed of tulips; The moon, Still, Upon your face. You shine, Beloved, You and the moon. But which is the reflection?

I've stood outside my house in Montana looking at the northern lights... crackling against the night sky. To me, that's magic.

I lack the magnificent richness of color that animates nature.

Ever since I was a kid, I have loved the Moon. It's always there and continues to inspire humanity.

Stars," she whispered. "I can see the stars again, my lady." A tear trickled down Artemis's cheek. "Yes, my brave one. They are beautiful tonight." Stars," Zoe repeated. Her eyes fixed on the night sky. And she did not move again.

The sweetness of dogs (fifteen) What do you say, Percy? I am thinking of sitting out on the sand to watch the moon rise. Full tonight. So we go and the moon rises, so beautiful it makes me shudder, makes me think about time and space, makes me take measure of myself: one iota pondering heaven. Thus we sit, I thinking how grateful I am for the moon’s perfect beauty and also, oh! How rich it is to love the world. Percy, meanwhile, leans against me and gazes up into my face. As though I were his perfect moon.

Night and the day, when united, Bring forth the beautiful light.

It was terribly beautiful to Tess today, for since her eyes last fell upon it she had learnt that the serpent hisses where the sweet birds sing.

But I feel as if I did know Rue, and she'll always be with me. Everything beautiful brings her to mind. I see her in the yellow flowers that grow in the Meadow by my house. I see her in the Mockingjays that sing in the trees. But most of all, I see her in my sister, Prim.

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.

If the moon smiled, she would resemble you. You leave the same impression Of something beautiful, but annihilating.

The moon, like a flower in heaven's high bower, with silent delight sits and smiles on the night.

The flowers were so beautiful, so delicate and unthreatening, but they choked everything around them.

Against a dark sky, all flowers look like fireworks.

If it hadn't been what it was, it would've been beautiful.

What intelligent being, what being capable of responding emotionally to a beautiful sight, can look at the jagged, silvery lunar crescent trembling in the azure sky, even through the weakest of telescopes, and not be struck by it in an intensely pleasurable way, not feel cut off from everyday life here on Earth and transported toward that first step on celestial journeys?

So how come it looks so beautiful? How come the moon falls from the sky?

Then stars arise, and the night is holy.

The evening star Is the most beautiful of all stars

The fields and the flowers and the beautiful faces are not ours, as the stars and the hills and the sunlight are not ours, but they give us fresh and happy thoughts.

The stars are forth, the moon above the tops Of the snow-shining mountains--beautiful! I linger yet with nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man, and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness I learned the language of another world.