Jack Kerouac Quotes

It was early evening when they walked outside, the sky the color of pink lemonade.

The sun goes down long and red. All the magic names of the valley unrolled - Manteca, Madera, all the rest. Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon field; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries. I stuck my head out the window and took deep breaths of the fragant air. It was the most beautiful of all moments.

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.

Outside, daylight was bleeding slowly toward dusk.

The day is done; and slowly from the scene the stooping sun upgathers his spent shafts, and puts them back into his golden quiver!

I am very fond of sunsets. Come, let us go look at a sunset.

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 sun was slowly setting in the west, casting golden beams of light into the somber old room.

Twilight fell: The sky turned to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars.

Just as the setting sun turned the clouds to liquid gold.

the blue and cloudless day closes like the lid of a casket of jewels upon the violet rim of sea, and shuts out the light.

The sun was already declining and each of the trees held a premonition of night.

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.

Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his sandal shoon.

The whisper of the dusk is night shedding its husk.

I venerate old age; and I love not the man who can look without emotion upon the sunset of life, when the dusk of evening begins to gather over the watery eye, and the shadows of twilight grow broader and deeper upon the understanding.

Bright colours in the west, giant butterflies dancing as night crept like a cripple toward the east.

The sky slowly pulled up its blue dress to reveal night.

The sun was a toddler insistently refusing to go to bed: It was past eight thirty and still light.

We stay this way until twilight colours the window and the hour calls me home

... but the longest day hath its evening.

The twilight that surrounds the border-land of old romance.

At twilight, nature is not without loveliness, though perhaps its chief use is to illustrate quotations from the poets.

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

I'm sure partial to the evening,' Augustus said. 'The evening and the morning. If we just didn't have to have the rest of the dern day I'd be a lot happier.