When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.
Oh, the summer night, Has a smile of light, And she sits on a sapphire throne.
And yet more bright Shines out the Julian star, As moon outglows each lesser light. [Lat., Micat inter omnes Iulium sidus, velut inter ignes Luna minores.]
Somewhere someone is thinking of you. Someone is calling you an angel. This person is using celestial colors to paint your image. Someone is making you into a vision so beautiful that it can only live in the mind.
Today in my heart a vague trembling of stars and all roses are as white as my pain.
The ground was silvery, as if some stars had fallen there.
And from then on, I bathed in the Poem of the Sea, star-infused, and opalescent, devouring green azures
And really, the reason we think of death in celestial terms is that the visible firmament, especially at night (above our blacked-out Paris with the gaunt arches of its Boulevard Exelmans and the ceaseless Alpine gurgle of desolate latrines), is the most adequate and ever-present symbol of that vast silent explosion.
In the custom of mourning, the fabric of the night had been ripped, revealing a star at each tiny tear.
We only see starlight because all the stars are bleeding.
That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon.
Dark is a way and light is a place, Heaven that never was Nor will be ever is always true "Poem on His Birthday
That mighty orb of song, The divine Milton.
Romeo, of dead, should be cut up into little stars to make the heavens fine. Life, with this pair, has no other aim, asks no more,than Juliet,--than Romeo.
I felt as if the Milky Way, hovering above our heads like a celestial pitcher, had suddenly overturned, pouring suns and planets down my throat. Stars seemed to be shooting out of my finger and toes, the ends of my hair.
To me you are stardust sprinkled across a night sky, forever in my dreams, but out of my reach.
lucid and quiet his voice hovered above the listeners, like a light, like a starry sky.
As to the thoughts, they are elfish. Those eyes in the Evening Star you must have seen in a dream.
And from that time on I bathed in the Poem Of the Sea, star-infused and churned into milk, Devouring the green azures; where, entranced in pallid flotsam, A dreaming drowned man sometimes goes down.
The synagogues of late antiquity and the early medieval period were built around imagery: imagery of remembering the Temple, but also of the celestial zodiac, too.
