Quotes & Sayings About Moonlight And Love

Lots of people think that love is giving flowers or chocolates, or taking walks in the moonlight, but for me that's all just decoration. Love is much more profound and true than that; it's being able to really take care of the other person. — Amanda Laneley

But if God is the flowers and the trees
And the hills and the sun and the moonlight,
Then I believe in him,
Then I believe in him all the time,
And my whole life is an oration and a mass,
And a communion with my eyes and through my ears. — Alberto Caeiro

Drop by drop rain slaps the banana leaves,

Praise whoever sketched this desolate scene:

the lush, dark canopies of the gnarled trees,

the long river, sliding smooth and white.

I lift my wine flask, drunk with rivers and hills.

My backpack, breathing moonlight, sags with poems.

Look, and love everyone.

Whoever sees this landscape is stunned. — Ho Xuan Huong

Benedict's hand clenched by his side, still tingling where it had touched her. He wished she'd let him do more. It was so romantic out here in the darkness; the cool breeze rustling through the trees and the moonlight showing faintly through cloud. They were completely alone and it felt like the sort of night where anything could happen. It was a pity that Tamsin didn't seem to feel the same way. — Emily Arden

The whole street took part in the serenade to Flor, Flor leaning against her high window, all ruffles and lace, drenched in moonlight. Down below Vadinho, her gallant knight, with the red rose in his hand, so red it was almost black, the rose of her love. — Jorge Amado

All these years I've had a story in my mind, the story about us that never really existed. And because of that story, I've kept you framed up on the wall in a little box of nostalgic moonlight. — Cathleen Schine

Stained-glass windows glowed faintly in the moonlight streaming through, illuminating the sculpture of Christ on the cross that hung above the altar.
It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Then the sculpture seemed to move, and Christ's body twisted on the cross to look directly at him ... Jesus, the son of God and his saviour, seemed be smiling at him. — Phillip W. Simpson

A cat is a regency gentleman
elegant of pose, exquisite of manner, with spotless linen and an enthusiasm for bare knuckle fights, rampaging love affairs, duels by moonlight and the singing of glees. He expects immaculate service from his domestic staff, and possesses a range of invective that would make a navy blanch. — Pam Brown

Sella smiled sadly as she laid the scarf on her knees, her fingers tracing over the delicate gold-thread pattern (...) The moon, the sing of calm reflection, from where reason and balance are derived (...) The sun, source of passion, love, anger (...) We exist here, between the two. Grown from the earth, warmed by the sun, cooled by the moonlight night. Your brother's heart had been pulled too far into the sun, fired with anger and regret. Now he has cooled and he looks to the moon for guidance. — Anthony Ryan

Love is more than desire. It's more than passion and moonlight and poetry. Love is a choice you make; it's things you do. Love is holding hands when your wife's morning sickness is so bad she wants to die. It's forgiving when you're mad, and listening to her when you want to talk. It's rubbing her feet when she's tired and you want a whole lot more. It's seeing each other at your worst and choosing to overlook what you know is true because you believe they can be better. It's doing the right thing for the other person. Even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard. That is love, Jaime. — Brandon Gray

I reached for her, pushing back the fall of hair-it was heavy and thick and smooth to the touch-and tilted her chin so that the moonlight shone on her wet face.
We married each other that night, there on a bed of fallen pine needles-even today, the scent of pitch-pine stirs me-with Henry's distant flute for a wedding march and the arching white birch boughs for our basilica. At first, she quivered like an aspen, and I was ashamed at my lack of continence, yet I could not let go of her. I felt like Peleus on the beach, clinging to Thetis, only to find that, suddenly, it was she who held me; that same furnace in her nature that had flared up in anger blazed again, in passion. — Geraldine Brooks

I love to close my eyes a moment and think of the land outside, white under the mingled snow and moonlight--the heaps of stones by the roadside white--snow in the furrows. Mon Dieu! How quiet and how patient! — Katherine Mansfield

We ignore the blackness of outer space and pay attention to the stars, especially if they seem to order themselves into constellations. "Common as the air" meant something worthless, but Hackworth knew that every breath of air that Fiona drew, lying in her little bed at night, just a silver flow in the moonlight, was used by her body to make skin and hair and bones. The air became Fiona, and deserving - no, demanding - of love. Ordering matter was the sole endeavor of Life, whether it was a jumble of self-replicating molecules in the primordial ocean, or a steam-powered English mill turning weeds into clothing, or Fiona lying in her bed turning air into Fiona. — Neal Stephenson

I love the performance of a craft, whether it is modest or mean-spirited, yet I walk away when discussions of it begin - as if one should ask a gravedigger what brand of shovel he uses or whether he prefers to work at noon or in moonlight. I am interested only in the care taken, and those secret rehearsals behind it. Even if I do not understand fully what is taking place. — Michael Ondaatje

It was too dark to see but I froze in the glow of bright grey eyes that almost appeared white in the moonlight. — E.J. Harington

The moon is the reflection of your heart and moonlight is the twinkle of your love. — Debasish Mridha

You are mine-you know you're mine! he cried wildly ... the moonlight twisted in through the vines and listened ... the fireflies hung upon their whispers as if to win his glance from the glory of their eyes. — F Scott Fitzgerald

This night is not calm; the equinox still struggles in its storms. The wild rains of the day are abated; the great single cloud disparts and rolls away from heaven, not passing and leaving a sea all sapphire, but tossed buoyant before a continued, long-sounding, high-rushing moonlight tempest. The Moon reigns glorious, glad of the gale, as glad as if she gave herself to his fierce caress with love. No Endymion will watch for his goddess tonight. there are no flocks out on the mountains; and it is well, for to-night she welcomes Aeolus. — Charlotte Bronte

For as long as she can remember, telling stories has been her momma's gift to those around her, fables filled with rich, detailed accounts of gods and monsters, of love and curses. She can weave a tale from Spanish moss and moonlight that will make a young girl's heart resonate with yearning or weep with anguish. Her coastal Georgia roots add a dark sweetness to all her narratives, one that stains her stories with sorrow like a drop of molasses dissolving in warm butter. — Sara Stark

I am your moon and your moonlight too
I am your flower garden and your water too
I have come all this way, eager for you
Without shoes or shawl
I want you to laugh
To kill all your worries
To love you
To nourish you. — Rumi

I find joy and magic in every drop of moonlight. I hear songs of love in every glint of a star. — Debasish Mridha

She looked so beautiful in the moonlight, but it wasn't only the way she looked, it was what was inside her, everything from her intelligence and courage to her wit, and the special smile she gave only to him. He would slay a dragon, if there were such a thing, just to see that smile. He knew he would never want anyone else for as long as he lived. He would rather spend the rest of his life alone than with someone else. There could be no one else. — Terry Goodkind

Maximus," she whispered, all moonlight and strength. "I love you. Never forget that. — Elizabeth Hoyt

Music, and moonlight, and love and ro...mance." he sang softly to himself, tapping some computer — Tim Lebbon

There was something of the wildwood in the man who came and went illusive as moonlight moving through the branches. — Janet Lee Carey

BEANNACHT For Josie On the day when the weight deadens on your shoulders and you stumble, may the clay dance to balance you. And when your eyes freeze behind the gray window and the ghost of loss gets in to you, may a flock of colors, indigo, red, green and azure blue come to awaken in you a meadow of delight. When the canvas frays in the curach of thought and a stain of ocean blackens beneath you, may there come across the waters a path of yellow moonlight to bring you safely home. May the nourishment of the earth be yours, may the clarity of light be yours, may the fluency of the ocean be yours, may the protection of the ancestors be yours. And so may a slow wind work these words of love around you, an invisible cloak to mind your life. — John O'Donohue

Your soul is a chosen landscape
Where charming masked and costumed figures go
Playing the lute and dancing and almost
Sad beneath their fantastic disguises.
All sing in a minor key
Of all-conquering love and careless fortune
They do not seem to believe in their happiness
And their song mingles with the moonlight.
The still moonlight, sad and beautiful,
Which gives the birds to dream in the trees
And makes the fountain sprays sob in ecstasy,
The tall, slender fountain sprays among the marble statues. — Paul Verlaine

We lay there, under the stars, the moonlight enveloping us like a letter, folded together to be forever united, skin and bone trained to get along. — Aishabella Sheikh

I stared up at him, trying to memorize this moment. Every sensation. Making love on a mountain in the moonlight, under the galaxy of tiny lights. Wild and free. And deep inside me my wolf howled, claiming her one true mate. — Lisa Kessler

Are you glad I came?" "Delighted, dear Carmilla," I answered. "And you asked for the picture you think like me, to hang in your room," she murmured with a sigh, as she drew her arm closer about my waist, and let her pretty head sink upon my shoulder. "How romantic you are, Carmilla," I said. "Whenever you tell me your story, it will be made up chiefly of some one great romance." She kissed me silently. "I am sure, Carmilla, you have been in love; that there is, at this moment, an affair of the heart going on." "I have been in love with no one, and never shall," she whispered, "unless it should be with you." How beautiful she looked in the moonlight! Shy and strange was the look with which she quickly hid her face in my neck and hair, with tumultuous sighs, that seemed almost to sob, and pressed in mine a hand that trembled. Her — J. Sheridan Le Fanu

It was so late and she'd be sleeping
He came through her home town
With the moonlight on the crossroads
And the green light shining down
And the bell at the railroad crossing
And the horn from far away
And his Silver Eagle passing
Half a mile from where she lay

At his feet a sea of faces
Make devotions with their love
Clap their hands and plead their cases
Call for blessings from above
Like the rolling waves forever massing
To crash and foam and creep away
And the Silver Eagle passing
Half a mile from where she lay

Road signs flow into the headlights
Whisper names and fall behind
He finds some honor in the darkness
Hopes for grace and peace of mind
And he thinks of how they'd lay together
He'd run his fingers through her hair
And he wonders if she'll ever
Come to know that he was there — Mark Knopfler

I'd sit around dreaming that the boys I saw at shows or at work - the boys with silver earrings and big boots - would tell me I was beautiful, take me home and feed me Thai food or omelets and undress me and make love to me all night with the palm trees whispering windsongs about a tortured gleaming city and the moonlight like flame melting our candle bodies. — Francesca Lia Block

[Hers] was an existence between heaven and earth ... beyond her
stretched as far as the eye could see ... an immense space of joys and
passions ... [But] did not love, like flowers, need a special soil, a
particular temperature? Sighs by moonlight, long embraces, tears cried into yielding hands ... the fevers of the flesh and the langours of tenderness ... — Gustave Flaubert

To diminish the worth of women, men had to diminish the worth of the moon. They had to drive a wedge between human beings and the trees and the beasts and the waters, because trees and beasts and waters are as loyal to the moon as to the sun. They had to drive a wedge between thought and feeling ... At first they used Apollo as the wedge, and the abstract logic of Apollo made a mighty wedge, indeed, but Apollo the artist maintained a love for women, not the open, unrestrained lust that Pan has, but a controlled longing that undermined the patriarchal ambition. When Christ came along, Christ, who slept with no female ... Christ, who played no musical instrument, recited no poetry, and never kicked up his heels by moonlight, this Christ was the perfect wedge. Christianity is merely a system for turning priestesses into handmaidens, queens into concubines, and goddesses into muses. — Tom Robbins

This is what it is to love an artist: The moon is always rising above your house. The houses of your neighbors look dull and lacking in moonlight. But he is always going away from you. Inside his head there is always something more beautiful. — Sarah Ruhl

Together they made love among the mimeographed pages of their zine and the ink stained their bodies with letters and strange hieroglyph tattoos which they examined together in the moonlight drifting through the window, laughing. — Sunil Yapa

Soft moonlight and tender love harmonize together wonderfully. — Ninon De L'Enclos

I love it when the dark bottle of night spills out, and the Moon writes in chalk about us — John Geddes

Where perfumed rivers flow,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where passing breezes halt,
Is the home of my beloved.

Where dawn arrives on bare toes,
Where night paints henna-beams on feet,
Where fragrance bathes in moonlight,
Is the home of my beloved.

Where rays of light roam nakedly,
In green forests of sandalwood.
Where the flame seeks the lamp,
Is the home of my beloved.

Where sunsets sleep on wide waters,
And the deer leap.
Where tears fall for no reason,
Is the home of my beloved.

Where the farmer sleeps hungry,
Even though the wheat is the color of my beloved,
Where the wealthy ones lie in hiding,
Is the home of my beloved.

Where perfumed rivers flow,
Is the home of my beloved.
Where passing breezes halt,
Is the home of my beloved. — Shiv Kumar Batalvi

You're bleeding," he said. "A thorn prick, no more," she stated. "I didn't know fairy creatures could bleed. I always fancied them spun of mist and moonlight, not flesh and blood." "Let go." "No, my love - " "I'm not a fairy creature, and I am surely not your love." "It's just an expression." "It's a lie. But 'tis no high wonder to me. I'd be expecting falsehoods from a Sassenach." "Poor Caitlin. Does it hurt?" Very slowly, with his eyes fixed on hers, he put her finger to his lips and gently slipped it inside his mouth. Too shocked to stop him, she felt the warmth of his mouth, the moist velvet brush of his tongue over the pad of her finger. Then with an excess of gentleness he drew it out and placed her hand in her lap. "I think the bleeding's stopped," he said. — Susan Wiggs

A time when sky blue love bids farewell to the day and before dusk falls, the sunset ignites the smouldering embers of the moonlit soul... — Virginia Alison

Most common people oft he market-place much prefer light literature to improving books. The problem is, that so many romances contain slanderous anecdotes about sovereigns and ministers or cast aspersions upon man's wives and daughters so that they are packed with sex and violence. Even worse are those writers of the breeze-and-moonlight school, who corrupt the young with pornography and filth. As for books of the beauty-and-talented-scholar type, a thousand are written to a single pattern and none escapes bordering on indecency. They are filled with allusions to handsome, talented young men and beautiful, refined girls in history; but in order to insert a couple of his own love poems, the author invents stereotyped heroes and heroines with the inevitable low character to make trouble between them like a clown in a play, and makes even the slave girls talk pedantic nonsense. So all these novels are full of contradictions and absurdly unnatural. — Cao Xueqin

Love We Must Part
Love, we must part now: do not let it be
Calamitous and bitter. In the past
There has been too much moonlight and self-pity:
Let us have done with it: for now at last
Never has sun more boldly paced the sky,
Never were hearts more eager to be free,
To kick down worlds, lash forests; you and I
No longer hold them; we are husks, that see
The grain going forward to a different use.
There is regret. Always, there is regret.
But it is better that our lives unloose,
As two tall ships, wind-mastered, wet with light,
Break from an estuary with their courses set,
And waving part, and waving drop from sight. — Philip Larkin

When the wolf howls and the moon dims
hope fades with the waning light.
Evil lurks at every turn as shadows waltz
across the ebony night.
Behold the midnight hour
where all of reason takes flight. — Grace Willows

As soon as the torch went out the atmosphere of the forest intensified. As her eyes slowly became accustomed to the darkness she started to notice the outlines of canopies above them where trees were silhouetted against the pale moonlight.
The sounds around them became more noticeable; the shuffling of an animal through the undergrowth, the whistling of the wind through the trees, and now and then the cry of some creature being captured in the darkness.
As they sat quietly, the noises seemed to become louder still until both visitors felt absorbed into the forest world. — Emily Arden

Orpheus never liked words. He had his music. He would get a funny look on his face and I would say what are you thinking about and he would always be thinking about music.
If we were in a restaurant sometimes Orpheus would look sullen and wouldn't talk to me and I thought people felt sorry for me. I should have realized that women envied me. Their husbands talked too much.
But I wanted to talk to him about my notions. I was working on a new philosophical system. It involved hats.
This is what it is to love an artist: The moon is always rising above your house. The houses of your neighbors look dull and lacking in moonlight. But he is always going away from you. Inside his head there is always something more beautiful.
Orpheus said the mind is a slide ruler. It can fit around anything. Show me your body, he said. It only means one thing. — Sarah Ruhl

Be happy, cried the Nightingale, be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty. Flame-coloured are his wings, and coloured like flame is his body. His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense. — Oscar Wilde

I don't want Tiamat to go back," said Jeremy sullenly. "I want her to stay here with me."
Miss Priest laughed. It was not a horrible laugh at all. "What a terrible idea!" she said. "Why do you want her to stay?"
Because I love her. I don't want to lose her."
Miss Priest reached out and took his chin in her hand. She looked into his eyes. "You silly boy," she said. "Nothing you love is lost. Not really. Things, people - they always go away, sooner or later. You can't hold them, any more than you can hold moonlight. But if they've touched you, if they're inside you, then they're still yours. The only things you ever really have are the ones you hold inside your heart. — Bruce Coville

For a moment this good time would never end
You and me
Just wasting time
I was kissing you
You were kissing me love
From good day into a moonlight — Dave Matthews

Soft moonlight touches my lips and cheeks,
I feel your soul dance in my heart.
Breeze of the Southern sea blows my hair,
I feel your love touch my flowers of desire,
In my garden roses dance with the kindness of air.
I feel my soul wanting her bliss to share. — Debasish Mridha

Beauty isn't skin-deep. It's bone-deep. Heart-deep. Soul-deep. Only put to sleep. When we prick our finger on fear. Beauty can't be bought or made. It can only be awoken through laughter, and living, and love. Through being you and being true. — Siobhan Curham

I'm game for anything. Will you pelt me with falling hearts in a symbolic rain of our unrequited love? Or perhaps chain me to a wall in lace made of moonlight and have your way with me? — A.G. Howard

He was the owner of the moonlight on the ground, he fell in love with the most beautiful of the trees, he made wreaths of leaves and strung them around his neck. — Tove Jansson

But if God is the trees and the flowers
And the hills and the moonlight and the sun,
Why should I call him God?
I call him flowers and trees and hills and sun and moonlight;
Because if he made himself for me to see
As the sun and moonlight and flowers and trees and hills,
If he appears to me as trees and hills
And moonlight and sun and flowers,
It's because he wants me to know him
As trees and hills and flowers and moonlight and sun.

And that's why I obey him,
(What more do I know about God than God knows about himself?),
I obey him by living, spontaneously,
Like someone opening his eyes and seeing,
And I call him moonlight and sun and flowers and trees and hills,
And I love him without thinking about him,
And I think him by seeing and hearing,
And I walk with him all the time. — Alberto Caeiro

But we didn't, not in the moonlight, or by the phosphorescent lanterns of lightning bugs in your back yard, not beneath the constellations we couldn't see, let alone decipher, or in the dark glow that replaced the real darkness of night, a darkness already stolen from us, not with the skyline rising behind us while a city gradually decayed, not in the heat of summer while a Cold War raged, despite the freedom of youth and the license of first love - because of fate, karma, luck, what does it matter? - we made not doing it a wonder, and yet we didn't, we didn't, we never did. — Stuart Dybek

Love? Do I love? I walk
Within the brilliance of another's thought,
As in a glory. I was dark before,
as Venus' chapel in the black of night:
But there was something holy in the darkness,
Softer and not so thick as the other where;
And as rich moonlight may be to the blind,
Unconsciously consoling. Then love came,
Like the out-bursting of a trodden star. — Thomas Lovell Beddoes

One night they walked while the moon rose and poured a great burden of glory over the garden until it seemed fairyland with Amory and Eleanor, dim phantasmal shapes, expressing eternal beauty and curious elfin love moods. Then they turned out of the moonlight into the trellised darkness of a vine-hung pagoda, where there were scents so plaintive as to be nearly musical. — F Scott Fitzgerald

I have been in love with no one, and never shall," she whispered, "unless it should be with you."
How beautiful she looked in the moonlight!
Shy and strange was the look with which she quickly hid her face in my neck and hair, with tumultuous sighs, that seemed almost to sob, and pressed in mine a hand that trembled.
Her soft cheek was glowing against mine. "Darling, darling," she murmured, "I live in you; and you would die for me, I love you so."
I started from her.
She was gazing on me with eyes from which all fire, all meaning had flown, and a face colorless and apathetic.
"Is there a chill in the air, dear?" she said drowsily. "I almost shiver; have I been dreaming? Let us come in. Come; come; come in. — J. Sheridan Le Fanu

Tessie Moran, eighteen and not yet in love, was dreaming of handsome young men and moonlight. She could not easily be roused from her enchantment. — Antoinette Stockenberg

When the Deep Purple falls,
Over sleepy garden walls,
And the stars begin to flicker in the sky,
Thru the mist of a memory
You wander back to me,
Breathing my name with a sigh.
In the still of the night,
Once again I hold you tight,
Tho' you're gone, your love lives on
When moonlight beams.
And as long as my heart will beat
Lover, we'll always meet
Here in my Deep Purple dreams. — Rebecca Wells

Sometimes,
I doubt the courage
My bones are made of

And then,
A breath finds her way in
And her way out

The half-way-almost-full moon
Smiles down;

My heart sighs
And quietly whispers:
I remember. — Bryonie Wise

There may be trouble ahead - But while there's moonlight, and music, and love, and romance -Let's face the music and dance. — Irving Berlin

The first stanza of Eyes In Moonlight Drown, a poem from DeadVerse.

With your face framed in a halo of stars,
your hair melts into trailing clouds,
and your eyes in moonlight drown.
A man could lose himself
in those freckled irises,
reflecting the galaxies above;
surely he could fall into their promise
of eternity, of Heaven, of love.
Your lips glisten, part, and beckon,
a smile of warm invitation,
a suggestion of sweet intensity,
a loss of self in addictive agony.
For we translate these aesthetics
into something mystical;
ideas of fantasy, of fiction,
obscuring the clinical truth
of chemical reactions,
electric sparks, responses
as sure as gravity,
measurable yet beyond cold,
above philosophy and below truth. — Scott Kaelen

By the moonlight he watched his wife for the last time. His hand sought the adjacent flesh and sorrow paralleled desire in the immense complexity of love. — Carson McCullers

In this uncertain space between birth and death, especially here at the end of the world in Moonlight Bay, we need hope as surely as we need food and water, love and friendship. — Dean Koontz

I often wish I'd got on better with your father,' he said.
But he never liked anyone who
our friends,' said Clarissa; and could have bitten her tongue for thus reminding Peter that he had wanted to marry her.
Of course I did, thought Peter; it almost broke my heart too, he thought; and was overcome with his own grief, which rose like a moon looked at from a terrace, ghastly beautiful with light from the sunken day. I was more unhappy than I've ever been since, he thought. And as if in truth he were sitting there on the terrace he edged a little towards Clarissa; put his hand out; raised it; let it fall. There above them it hung, that moon. She too seemed to be sitting with him on the terrace, in the moonlight. — Virginia Woolf

Put a girl in
moonlight
and tell only truths
and every man
becomes a poet. — Atticus Poetry

I collapsed next to him on the bed and he slowly peeled off the rest of my wardrobe. We made love by moonlight. — Janice Macleod

In the moonlight and under the stars
Somehow your face seems clearer
I revere your presence and remember
We are warriors
Thrusted onto this plane
We are strong
We must use our strength
While bearing compassion
It's easy to get lost
This place makes it so easy to get lost
But-
In the moonlight and under the stars
Somehow your presence seems clearer
And I remember
We are warriors — Nancy Navene

The Light of Love Each shining light above us Has its own peculiar grace; But every light of heaven Is in my darling's face. For it is like the sunlight, So strong and pure and warm, That folds all good and happy things, And guards from gloom and harm. And it is like the moonlight, So holy and so calm; The rapt peace of a summer night, When soft winds die in balm. And it is like the starlight; For, love her as I may, She dwells still lofty and serene In mystery far away. — John Hay

Be happy, be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mightier than Power, though he is mighty. — Oscar Wilde

Once I saw you in moonlight and I can tell you - the silvery dust of the stars doesn't shimmer like you ... — John Geddes

I imagined/felt their palms sweating, their sweat mingling, mutually fertilized, and dripping to the ground, where it gave birth to a scolopendra, the forked ends of its tail bedecked with the sparkle of drying tears. Their sweat would mingle again at night; the sweat from their bellies would run down into their loins, fill their belly buttons, and glimmer in the moonlight like the tears drying on the scolopendra's tail. — Elizaveta Mikhailichenko

It would have been so easy to believe every word he said and drive off with him into the moonlight like a scene from a fairy tale. But I wasn't meant for happily ever after in my past life, and it was starting to seem like this one wouldn't be any different. — Michelle Madow

Bright beautiful moon,
Silvery silky moonlight
touching my heart
With love and joy. — Debasish Mridha

If in the moonlight from the silent bough
Suddenly with precision speak your name
The nightingale, be not assured that now
His wing is limed and his wild virtue tame.
Beauty beyond all feathers that have flown
Is free; you shall not hood her to your wrist,
Nor sting her eyes, nor have her for your own
In any fashion; beauty billed and kissed
Is not your turtle; tread her like a dove -
She loves you not; she never heard of love. — Edna St. Vincent Millay

....One dark night,
my Tudor Ford climbed the hill's skull;
I watched for love-cars. Lights turned down,
they lay together, hull to hull,
where the graveyard shelves on the town. . . .
My mind's not right.

A car radio bleats,
"Love, O careless Love. . . ." I hear
my ill-spirit sob in each blood cell,
as if my hand were at its throat. . . .
I myself am hell;
nobody's here--

only skunks, that search
in the moonlight for a bite to eat.
They march on their soles up Main Street:
white stripes, moonstruck eyes' red fire
under the chalk-dry and spar spire
of the Trinitarian Church.

I stand on top
of our back steps and breathe the rich air--
a mother skunk with her column of kittens swills the garbage pail.
She jabs her wedge-head in a cup
of sour cream, drops her ostrich tail,
and will not scare. — Robert Lowell

Rather would I have the love songs of romantic ages, rather Don Juan and Madame Venus, rather an elopement by ladder and rope on a moonlight night, followed by the father's curse, mother's moans, and the moral comments of neighbors, than correctness and propriety measured by yardsticks. — Emma Goldman

Esmerine go out briefly to relieve herself, then return and pull off her shift again, her breasts silvery raindrops spilling down her ribs in the moonlight, over Bahram's hands as he warmed them, in that somnolent world of second-watch sex that was one of the beautiful spaces of daily life, the salvation of sleep, the body's dream, so much warmer and more loving than any other part of the day that it was sometimes hard in the mornings to believe it had really happened, that he and Esmerine, so severe in dress and manner, Esmerine who ran the women at their work as hard as Khalid had at his most tryrannical, and who never spoke to Bahram or looked at him except in the most businesslike way, as was only fitting and proper, had in fact been transported together with him to whole other worlds of rapture, in the depths of the night in their bed. As he watched her work in the afternoons, Bahram thought: love changed everything. — Kim Stanley Robinson

Once a month, ripe with psychic energy, the moon grows to Her zenith. Blazing full with the sun's rays through the night sky, it is with great compassion and love for her children that she luminesces. — Lawren Leo

A chaos of mind and body - a time for weeping at sunsets and at the glamour of moonlight - a confusion and profusion of beliefs and hopes, in God, in Truth, in Love, and in Eternity - an ability to be transported by the beauty of physical objects - a heart to ache or swell- a joy so joyful and a sorrow so sorrowful that oceans could lie between them ... — T.H. White

Love is not a businessman who wants to see a return on his investments. And imagination needs only a few nails on which to hang its veil. Whether they are of gold, tin, or covered with rust makes no difference to it. Wherever it gets caught, it is caught. Thornbush or rosebush, as soon as the veil of moonlight and mother-of-pearl has fallen on it, either becomes a fairy tale out of A Thousand and One Nights — Erich Maria Remarque

The moonlight streaming through the sheer draperies revealed Taylor smiling, boneless and peaceful in Will's embrace. The most dangerous man Will knew rested sweetly in his arms, trusting him with his love as he trusted Will to guard his life. It was beyond precious. Life, love, was made up of fragile moments like these. Fragile as Paris moonlight. — Josh Lanyon

Driving down 93, I realized once and for all, that I love the things that chafe. The things that fill me with stress so total I can't remember when a block of it didn't rest on top of my heart. I love what, if broken, can't be repaired. What, if lost can't be replaced.
I love my burdens. — Dennis Lehane

Man is the candle light and a woman is the moonlight. They live far away but can grow together during lonesome nights. — Santosh Kalwar

We danced too wild, and we sang too long, and we hugged too hard, and we kissed too sweet, and howled just as loud as we wanted to howl, because by now we were all old enough to know that what looks like crazy on an ordinary day looks a lot like love if you catch it in the moonlight. — Pearl Cleage

Love dies when the lover in us dies. It snaps when the lover in us gives up in defeat. When the cold, practical us takes over the the self-image of us a lover. When the lover in us wins, the practical us recedes and the magic takes over, and when the lover in us loses, the practical us takes over and the magic recedes and the more the lover in us dies, the less courage we have in magic until we reach a point where we even disbelieve the very notion of magic, and magic within us. Who would believe the madness of moonlight in broad daylight? Love dies from hunger for love that love is unable to feed. If I tell you that just as the cold rays of harsh sunlight shall give away to the silver cool of the moonlight beams, your disbelief can turn to magic,are you going to believe? That the stars are there even during the day, that we are the ones unable to see, would you believe? — Srividya Srinivasan

Ethan, I love you. Don't leave me. I can't do this without you.
If there was moonlight, I could have seen his face. But there was no moon, not now, and the only light came from the fire, still frozen, surrounding me on every side. The sky was empty, absolutely black. There was nothing. I had lost everything tonight.
I sobbed until I couldn't breathe and my fingers slipped through his, knowing I would never feel those fingers in my hair again.
Ethan. — Kami Garcia

She walks barefoot into the humid night, moonlight on her freckled shoulders. Near a huge, live oak tree on the edge of her father's cotton fields, Sidda looks up into the sky. In the crook of the crescent moon sits the Holy Lady, with strong muscles and a merciful heart. She kicks her splendid legs like the moon is her swing and the sky, her front porch. She waves down at Sidda like she has just spotted an old buddy.
Sidda stands in the moonlight and lets the Blessed Mother love every hair on her six-year-old head. Tenderness flows down from the moon and up from the earth. For one fleeting, luminous moment, Sidda Walker knows there has never been a time when she has not been loved. — Rebecca Wells

This myth he'd made out of intricate movements and imagination, out of moonlight and love, out of prayers older than Adam, and gray cliffs and crimson shadows, laments and rivers of martyrs - what had it come to at last? When the waves receded, the shores of Time would spread out there clean, empty, shining with infinite grains of memory and little else. — Frank Herbert

Tanith frowned. Did people still go on DATES any more? She was sure they did. They probably called it something different though. She tried to think of the last date she'd been on. The last PROPER date. Did fighting side by side with Saracen Rue count as a date? They ended up snuggling under the moonlight, drenched in gore and pieces of brain - so it had PROBABLY been a date. If it wasn't, it was certainly a fun time had by all. Well, not ALL. But she and Saracen had sure had a blast. — Derek Landy

Love, be
mystical

as the flickering
blue flame
of night

as the fully-awoken
moon

beneath cobwebs
of passing clouds

amidst chanting
high-tides

fuzzy,
as my blanket

big enough
to illuminate a hundred
thousand billion galaxies

and just small enough to fit
into my embrace. — Sanober Khan

They who meet on an April night are forever lost in love, if there's moonlight all about and there's no moon above. — Yip Harburg

We are on a stroll, hand in hand, in a garden, in the moonlight and the sole purpose of such a venture is to come together in love. — Anuradha Bhattacharyya