Francis Thompson Quotes

What do you do there, moon, in the sky? Tell me what you do, silent moon. When evening comes you rise and go contemplating wastelands; then you set.

The moon, by her comparative proximity, and the constantly varying appearances produced by her several phases, has always occupied a considerable share of the attention of the inhabitants of the earth.

I'm really fascinated by the moon.

The summer moon hung full in the sky. For the time being it was the great fact of the world.

Under your skin the moon is alive.

The moon, too, abases her subjects, but in the daytime she is ridiculous. Your dissatisfactions, on the other hand, arrive through the mailslot with loving regularity, white and blank, expansive as carbon monoxide. No day is safe from news of you, walking about in Africa maybe, but thinking of me.

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

There's the moon asking to stay long enough for the clouds to fly me away

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.

Just like the moon, I'll step aside, and let your sun shine while I follow behind.

The moon is nothing But a circumambulating aphrodisiac Divinely subsidized to provoke the world Into a rising birth-rate

If I were the moon, I know where I would fall down.

The full moon - the mandala of the sky.

Not secondary to the sun, she gives us his blaze again, Void of its flame, and sheds a softer day... In Heaven queen she is among the spheres; She, mistress-like, makes all things to be pure.

There was just one moon. That familiar, yellow, solitary moon. The same moon that silently floated over fields of pampas grass, the moon that rose--a gleaming, round saucer--over the calm surface of lakes, that tranquilly beamed down on the rooftops of fast-asleep houses. The same moon that brought the high tide to shore, that softly shone on the fur of animals and enveloped and protected travelers at night. The moon that, as a crescent, shaved slivers from the soul--or, as a new moon, silently bathed the earth in its own loneliness. THAT moon.

We ran as if to meet the moon.

The moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun.

You gazed at the moon and fell in the gutter.

We must strive to be like the moon

The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.

The Moon! Artemis! the great goddess of the splendid past of men! Are you going to tell me she is a dead lump?