Night Scene Quotes

Myeong-dong in Seoul is an area that is crazy at night, just packed.

Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber!

Soon it began to drizzle for the second time that night. The drops grew heavier and became visible in the headlights of the cars. It was said by some of the police on the scene that God was crying for the girl in the garden. To others, it was only rain.

The moon rose, an opalescent goddess tipping light from her harsh maternal scimitar.

At night I would lie in bed and watch the show, how bees squeezed through the cracks of my bedroom wall and flew circles around the room, making that propeller sound, a high-pitched zzzzzz that hummed along my skin. I watched their wings shining like bits of chrome in the dark and felt the longing build in my chest. The way those bees flew, not even looking for a flower, just flying for the feel of the wind, split my heart down its seam.

The lamps are burning and the starry sky is over it all.

The moon is at her full, and riding high, Floods the calm fields with light. The airs that hover in the summer sky Are all asleep tonight.

I hear it still. As I lay down my pen and take to my bed, I am aware of the bow being drawn across the bridge and the music rises into the night sky. It is far away and barely audible - but there it is! A pizzicato. Then a tremelo. The style is unmistakable. It is Sherlock Holmes who is playing. It must be. I hope with all my heart that he is playing for me . . .

The violets prattle and titter, And gaze on the stars high above.

Holding up my purring cat to the moon. I sighed.

The snow did not even whisper its way to earth, but seemed to salt the night with silence.

The moon is quite a show off given the chance. The stars make a sound when they shine so bright. Water so blue and so black.

Felling a tree and gazing at the cut end - tonight's moon

By night the skyscraper looms in the smoke and the stars and has a soul.

Towards midnight the rain ceased and the clouds drifted away, so that the sky was scattered once more with the incredible lamps of stars.

A cluster of stars palely glowed above us, between the silhouettes of long thin leaves; that vibrant sky seemed as naked as she was under her light frock. I saw her face in the sky, strangely distinct, as if it emitted a faint radiance of its own.

The locomotives are black. The coal is black. The tracks are black. The night is black. So what am I going to do with color?

It is the middle and pure height and whole of summer and a summer night, the held breath, of a planet's year; high shored sleeps the crested tide: what day of the month I do not know, which day of the week I am not sure, far less what hour of the night.

The pale and quiet moon Makes her calm forehead bare, And the last fragments of the storm, Like shattered rigging from a fight at sea, Silent and few, are drifting over me.

The new moon rode high in the crown of the metropolis. Shinin', like "Who on top of this?

There was a sliver of moon and a splash of stars, and the light outlined her face and glistened on the tears that ran like mercury down her cheeks.

The road made wet by the water of August shines like it was cut in full moonlight

There's a late-night scene in every town, and everyone has something going on, ... I've heard good stories about (Syracuse); this is a very good party town, a good drinking place. I definitely would like to come back and check it out further. Do some more research, as I call it.

Up from the dark the moon begins to creep; and now a pallid, haggard face lifts she above the water-line: thus from the deep a drowned body rises solemnly.

The moon was a sharply defined crescent and the sky was perfectly clear. The stars shone with such fierce, contained brilliance that it seemed absurd to call the night dark.