Ray Bradbury Quotes

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

The whisper of the dusk is night shedding its husk.

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

Night falls fast. Today is in the past.

The dusk was performing its customary intransitive operation of "gathering".

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

Men shut their doors against a setting sun.

The twilight is long fingers and black hair.

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

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?

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.

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

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

The longest Day hath an Eueninge.

The sun's rim dips; the stars rush out: At one stride comes the dark; With far-heard whisper o'er the sea, Off shot the spectre-bark.

After the sunset on the prairie, there are only the stars

Dawn: When men of reason go to bed.