Doug Stanton Quotes

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

We do not even see the sun for several months in the north of Sweden.

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

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

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.

Fading light buttered the ridges until shadows licked them clean and they were lost to nightfall.

Night falls fast. Today is the past.

The sun, a red wheel, was sinking slowly in the west. Besides being spectacularly beautiful, the early-summer sunset was exceedingly soft and gentle: black mulberry leaves turned as red as roses; pristine white acacia petals shed an enshrouding pale-green aura. Mild evening breezes made both the mulberry leaves and the acacia petals dance and whirl, filling the woods with a soft rustle.

Evening had fallen. A rim of the young moon cleft the pale waste of sky line, the rim of a silver hoop embedded in grey sand: and the tide was flowing in fast to the land with a low whisper of her waves, islanding a few last figures in distant pools.

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet's wings.

Night falls fast. Today is in the past.

I hate to see the evening sun go down.

...So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

The sacred lamp of day Now dipt in Western clouds his parting day.

The moment of twilight is simply beautiful.

The wide stare stared itself out for one while; the Sun went down in a red, green, golden glory; the stars came out in the heavens, and the fire-flies mimicked them in the lower air, as men may feebly imitate the goodness of a better order of beings; the long dusty roads and the interminable plains were in repose-and so deep a hush was on the sea, that it scarcely whispered of the time when it shall give up its dead.

I am the blue-lidded daughter of Sunset; I am the naked brilliance of the voluptuous night-sky.

Twilight and evening bell, and after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell when I embark.

A moment, and its glory was no more. The sun went down beneath the long dark lines of hill and cloud which piled up in the west an airy city, wall heaped on wall, and battlement on battlement; the light was all withdrawn; the shining church turned cold and dark; the stream forgot to smile; the birds were silent; and the gloom of winter dwelt on everything.

That golden sky, which was the doubly blessed symbol of advancing day and of approaching rest.

Dusk was falling quickly. It was just after 7 P.M., and the month was October.

The night destroys the sun