Night Imagery Quotes & Sayings

The autumn twilight turned into deep and early night as they walked. Tristran could smell the distant winter on the air
a mixture of night-mist and crisp darkness and the tang of fallen leaves. — Neil Gaiman

Then I went to the windows and pulled them open. The rain had stopped and the night was very still, black except for the glow behind the western hills that marked the Burning Lands. A dog barked far off, once and no more. — John Christopher

The Scottish vernacular is rich in colourful euphemisms for inebriation: 'stocious', 'stotting', 'guttered', 'steaming', 'steamboats', 'wellied' and 'hoolit' are just a few. Another is 'mortal', as in 'I was fair mortal last night' (meaning 'I was very drunk indeed'). So 'Mortal Causes' evoked, in my mind, the demon drink, just as surely as it did any darker and more violent imagery. — Ian Rankin

She had a rosebud on her ass, and wasn't happy about it. Standing naked in the bathroom, Eve adjusted the trifold mirror until she could get a good look.
"I think I could bust her for this," she muttered.
"Decorating a cop's posterior without a license?" Roarke suggested as he strolled in. "Felonious reproduction of floral imagery?'
"You're getting a big charge out of this, aren't you?" Miffed, Eve snagged a robe off the hook.
"Darling Eve, I thought I made it perfectly clear last night I was on your side of the issue. Didn't I do my best to chew it off? — J.D. Robb

I walked along the shore in the morning light, the winds have slept in the arms of dawn after crying all night. — Ipsit Bibhudarshi

Now, sucking all the night into his open mouth and blowing it out pale, with all the blackness left heavily inside himself ... — Ray Bradbury

Night came walking through Egypt swishing her black dress. — Zora Neale Hurston

If you listen to one of my albums, you can tell I do a lot of different things. In the case of 'Vincent', I thought of his picture 'Starry Night.' It was a beautiful road-map for a song. I used a lot of imagery from that painting. — Don McLean

And on that thin-mooned night, I could see little more than her silhoutte except for when she smoked, the burning cherry of the cigarette washing her face in pale red light. — John Green

James was sixteen, Cam seventeen, perhaps. She had looked round for someone who was not there, for Mrs. Ramsay, presumably. But there was only kind Mrs. Beckwith turning over her sketches under the lamp. Then, being tired, her mind still rising and falling with the sea, the taste and smell that places have after long absence possessing her, the candles wavering in her eyes, she had lost herself and gone under. It was a wonderful night, starlit; the waves sounded as they went upstairs; the moon surprised them, enormous, pale, as they passed the staircase window. She had slept at once. — Virginia Woolf

Woman you're as mean as a copperhead. Come here let's find out if you're as cold-blooded. — Katee Robert

The night crackled ... Everything had turned to static electricity in the heat. I combed my hair to watch the sparks fly from the ends. — Janet Fitch

High premiums are being paid today not particularly for quality service or long-term building of a business but rather for making money quickly, getting rich, and getting out. And that's wrong. — Willard C. Butcher

When a friend of mine introduced me to the music of Luca C & Brigante I was stuck with an apocalyptic feeling, as if I were listening to the sound of a party at the end of the world. And with such strong imagery coming to mind I was only too happy to write with them when they asked. Flash of Light is about that last night on earth, a forewarning of the end of an era and a last chance to Love. — Roisin Murphy

And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me. — Pablo Neruda

The weather was clear and still, and the countless stars opened above them, seeming like brilliant cold fruits that Maerad could simply pick out of the sky. — Alison Croggon

A wise person has more power over his enemies than they have over themselves. — Matshona Dhliwayo

She wanted to reach up to the night and dig her fingers into it, beg it to stay just a little bit longer. — Adi Alsaid

Some hard and dry book in a dead language, which you have found it impossible to read at home, but for which you still have a lingering regard, is the best to carry with you on a journey. — Henry David Thoreau

It was her first book, an indigo cover with a silver moonflower, an art nouveau flower, I traced my finger along the silver line like smoke, whiplash curves ... I touched the pages her hands touched, I pressed them to my lips, the soft thick old paper, yellow now, fragile as skin. I stuck my nose between the bindings and smelled all the readings she had given, the smell of unfiltered cigarettes and the espresso machine, beaches and incense and whispered words in the night. I could hear her voice rising from the pages. The cover curled outward like sails. — Janet Fitch

This usually occurs at the moment when my head hits the pillow at night; my eyes close and ... I see imagery. I do not mean pictures; more usually they are patterns or textures, such as repeated shapes, or shadows of shapes, or an item from an image, such as grass from a landscape or wood grain, wavelets or raindrops ... transformed in the most extraordinary ways at a great speed. Shapes are replicated, multiplied, reversed in negative, etc. Color is added, tinted, subtracted. Textures are the most fascinating; grass becomes fur becomes hair follicles becomes waving, dancing lines of light, and a hundred other variations and all the subtle gradients between them that my words are too coarse to describe. — Oliver Sacks

However gemlike mathematical truths may be, research is but a human endeavor. — H. David Burton

One evening he was in his room, his brow pressing hard against the pane, looking, without seeing them, at the chestnut trees in the park, which had lost much of their russet-coloured foliage. A heavy mist obscured the distance, and the night was falling grey rather than black, stepping cautiously with its velvet feet upon the tops of the trees. A great swan plunged and replunged amorously its neck and shoulders into the smoking water of the river, and its whiteness made it show in the darkness like a great star of snow. It was the single living being that somewhat enlivened the lonely landscape. — Theophile Gautier

Night simply drapes itself over the day
As if someone had lowered a curtain.
The sky glitters and moves,
Filled with shooting stars and fireflies. — Margarita Engle

If this were a book written to entertain small children, you would know what would happen next. With the villain's identity and evil plans exposed, the police would arrive on the scene and place him in a jail for the rest of his life, and the plucky youngsters would go out for pizza and live happily ever after. But this book is about the Baudelaire orphans, and you and I know that these three unfortunate children living happily ever after is about as likely as Uncle Monty returning to life. — Lemony Snicket

As dawn leaks into the sky it edits out the stars like excess punctuation marks, deleting asterisks and periods, commas, and semi-colons, leaving only unhinged thoughts rotating and pivoting, and unsecured words. — Ann Zwinger

It was Christmas night in the Castle of the Forest Sauvage, and all around length. It hung on the boughs of the forest trees in rounded lumps, even better than apple-blossom, and occasionally slid off the roofs of the village when it saw the chance of falling on some amusing character and giving pleasure to all. The boys made snowballs with it, but never put stones in them to hurt each other, and the dogs, when they were taken out to scombre, bit it and rolled in it, and looked surprised but delighted when they vanished into the bigger drifts. There was skating on the moat, which roared with the gliding bones which they used for skates, while hot chestnuts and spiced mead were served on the bank to all and sundry. The owls hooted. The cooks put out plenty of crumbs for the small birds. The villagers brought out their red mufflers. Sir Ector's face shone redder even than these. And reddest of all shone the cottage fires down the main street of an evening, — T.H. White

I like it when things catch fire and explode, which means I do not have your best interests in mind. — Randall Munroe

It was winter, and a night of bitter cold. The snow lay thick upon the ground, and upon the branches of the trees: the frost kept snapping the little twigs on either side of them, as they passed: and when they came to the Mountain-Torrent she was hanging motionless in air, for the Ice-King had kissed her. — Oscar Wilde

Let's stay up all night,' Kat whispers. 'Let's wait for the moon to kiss the morning star. — Elissa Janine Hoole