Jim Butcher 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.

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.

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

The twilight is long fingers and black hair.

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

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

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

The whisper of the dusk is night shedding its husk.

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

Night falls fast. Today is in the past.

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

The streets were dark with something more than night.

Men shut their doors against a setting sun.

Let either of you breathe a word, or the edge of a word, about the other things, and I will come to you in the black of some terrible night and I will bring a pointy reckoning that will shudder you. And you know I can do it; I saw Indians smash my dear parents' heads on the pillow next to mine, and I have seen some reddish work done at night, and I can make you wish you had never seen the sun go down! - Abigail

Night, the mother of fear and mystery, was coming upon me.

Night is falling: at dusk, you must have good eyesight to be able to tell the Good Lord from the Devil.

When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud And goes down burning into the gulf below, No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud At what has happened. Birds, at least must know It is the change to darkness in the sky. Murmuring something quiet in her breast, One bird begins to close a faded eye; Or overtaken too far from his nest, Hurrying low above the grove, some waif Swoops just in time to his remembered tree. At most he thinks or twitters softly, 'Safe! Now let the night be dark for all of me. Let the night be too dark for me to see Into the future. Let what will be, be.

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

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.

The barbarians come out at night.