Diane Ackerman Quotes

There's nothing that I love more than predawn. I'm with the dogs, I make coffee, and there's no one up.

I remember awakening one morning and finding everything smeared with the color of forgotten love.

Aubade THE lark now leaves his wat'ry nest, And climbing shakes his dewy wings. He takes this window for the East, And to implore your light he sings- Awake, awake! the morn will never rise Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes. The merchant bows unto the seaman's star, The ploughman from the sun his season takes, But still the lover wonders what they are Who look for day before his mistress wakes. Awake, awake! break thro' your veils of lawn! Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn!

A rooster crows only when it sees the light. Put him in the dark and he'll never crow. I have seen the light and I'm crowing.

Morning without you is a dwindled dawn.

What is life, when wanting love? Night without a morning; love's the cloudless summer sun, nature gay adorning.

The light which puts out our eyes is darkness to us. Only that day dawns to which we are awake. There is more day to dawn. The sun is but a morning star.

Americans live on the sunrise side of the mountain. The night is passing and we are ready for the day to come.

There is something about the melody of 'Thunder Road' that just suggests 'new day.' It suggests morning; it suggests something opening up.

To be honest with you, the forest resonates with me more, like instinctually, than the sea does.

The bright incarnate spirit of the Morn.

In the morning it was morning and I was still alive.

Day's sweetest moments are at dawn.

Dawn's faint breath breathes with your mouth at the ends of empty streets. Gray light your eyes, sweet drops of dawn on dark hills. Your steps and breath like the wind of dawn smother houses. The city shudders, Stones exhale— you are life, an awakening. Star lost in the light of dawn, trill of the breeze, warmth, breath— the night is done. You are light and morning.

Snowman wakes before dawn.

From a night of more sleep than she had expected, Marianne awoke the next morning to the same consciousness of misery in which she had closed her eyes.

There in the windy flood of morning Longing lifted its weight from me, Lost as a sob in the midst of cheering, Swept as a sea-bird out to sea.

The morning, which is the most memorable season of the day, is the awakening hour. Then there is least somnolence in us; and for an hour, at least, some part of us awakes which slumbers all the rest of the day and night... All memorable events, I should say, transpire in morning time and in a morning atmosphere. The Vedas say, “All intelligences awake with the morning.

Dawn comes before sleep does.

Lazarevo drips you into my soul, dawn drop by moonlight drop from the river Kama. When you look for me, look for me there, because that's where I'll be all the days of my life.

All silence is. All emptiness. And now: The dawn.

Morning is when I am awake and there is a dawn in me.