Evening Sky Quotes

I am very fond of sunsets. Come, let us go look at a sunset.

What do you do there, moon, in the sky? Tell me what you do, silent moon. When evening comes you rise and go contemplating wastelands; then you set.

I remarked constantly, just at sunset, in these latitudes, that the eastern horizon was brilliantly illuminated with a kind of mock sunset. This in a short time disappeared, to be soon succeeded by another similar in character, but more faint.

The sky, at sunset, looked like a carnivorous flower.

The sky grew darker, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of night.

Mild arch of promise! on the evening sky Thou shinest fair with many a lovely ray, Each in the other melting.

I am the blue-lidded daughter of Sunset; I am the naked brilliance of the voluptuous night-sky.

The evening star Is the most beautiful of all stars

The dusk was performing its customary intransitive operation of "gathering".

Twilight fell: The sky turned to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars.

Dawn comes slowly but dusk is rapid.

The Montana sunset lay between the mountains like a giant bruise from which darkened arteries spread across a poisoned sky.

Just as the setting sun turned the clouds to liquid gold.

The red sun was pasted in the sky like a wafer.

I hate to see the evening sun go down.

The sun, a red wheel, was sinking slowly in the west. Besides being spectacularly beautiful, the early-summer sunset was exceedingly soft and gentle: black mulberry leaves turned as red as roses; pristine white acacia petals shed an enshrouding pale-green aura. Mild evening breezes made both the mulberry leaves and the acacia petals dance and whirl, filling the woods with a soft rustle.

The moment of twilight is simply beautiful.

Outside, daylight was bleeding slowly toward dusk.

the blue and cloudless day closes like the lid of a casket of jewels upon the violet rim of sea, and shuts out the light.

When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud And goes down burning into the gulf below, No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud At what has happened. Birds, at least must know It is the change to darkness in the sky. Murmuring something quiet in her breast, One bird begins to close a faded eye; Or overtaken too far from his nest, Hurrying low above the grove, some waif Swoops just in time to his remembered tree. At most he thinks or twitters softly, 'Safe! Now let the night be dark for all of me. Let the night be too dark for me to see Into the future. Let what will be, be.

It's evening, one of those gray water-color washes, like liquid dust.

When I consider how, after sunset, the stars come out gradually in troops from behind the hills and woods, I confess that I could not have contrived a more curious and inspiring sight.

And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer sea, But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three.

Twilight drops her curtain down, and pins it with a star.

notice the convulsed orange inch of moon perching on this silver minute of evening