Over 40,000 Famous Quotes Sorted By Topic and Author

But we that have but span-long life, The thicker must lay on the pleasure; And since time will not stay, We'll add night to the day, Thus, thus we'll fill the measure.

Night is a stealthy, evil Raven, Wrapt to the eyes in his black wings.

Night comes, world-jewelled, . . . The stars rush forth in myriads as to wage War with the lines of Darkness; and the moon, Pale ghost of Night, comes haunting the cold earth After the sun's red sea-death--quietless.

I love night more than day--she is so lovely; But I love night the most because she brings My love to me in dreams which scarcely lie.

Wan night, the shadow goer, came stepping in.

The burden of Dumah. He calleth to me out of Seir, Watchman, what of the night? Watchman, what of the night?

In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth on men.

I must work the works of him that sent me, while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.

When it draws near to witching time of night.

The night has a thousand eyes, And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies With the dying sun. The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one: Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is done.

Most glorious night! Thou wert not sent for slumber!

For the night Shows stars and women in a better light.

The stars are forth, the moon above the tops Of the snow-shining mountains--Beautiful! I linger yet with Nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man; and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness I learn'd the language of another world.

Night's black Mantle covers all alike. - Guillaume de Salluste Du Bartas,

O radiant Dark! O darkly fostered ray! Thou hast a joy too deep for shallow Day.

Dark the Night, with breath all flowers, And tender broken voice that fills With ravishment the listening hours,-- Whisperings, wooings, Liquid ripples, and soft ring-dove cooings In low-toned rhythm that love's aching stills! Dark the night Yet is she bright, For in her dark she brings the mystic star, Trembling yet strong, as is the voice of love, From some unknown afar.

For there is no day however beautiful that is not followed by night.

The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind: There all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.

A late lark twitters from the quiet skies: And from the west, Where the sun, his day's work ended, Lingers as in content, There falls on the old, gray city An influence luminous and serene, A shining peace.

The smoke ascends In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires Shine and are changed. In the valley Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun Closing his benediction, Sinks, and the darkening air Thrills with the sense of the triumphing night,-- Night with train of stars And her great gift of sleep.