Quotations On Sunset
1. Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.
2. When the sun has set, no candle can replace it.
3. Dusk is just an illusion because the sun is either above the horizon or below it. And that means that day and night are linked in a way that few things are there cannot be one without the other yet they cannot exist at the same time. How would it feel I remember wondering to be always together yet forever apart?
4. Twilight fell: The sky turned to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars.
5. There’s a sunrise and a sunset every single day, and they’re absolutely free. Don’t miss so many of them.
6. The first stab of love is like a sunset, a blaze of color — oranges, pearly pinks, vibrant purples…
7. Can you see the sunset real good on the West side? You can see it on the East side too.
8. Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgandy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries.
9. Ô, Sunlight! The most precious gold to be found on Earth.
10. Never waste any amount of time doing anything important when there is a sunset outside that you should be sitting under!
11. A large drop of sun lingered on the horizon and then dripped over and was gone, and the sky was brilliant over the spot where it had gone, and a torn cloud, like a bloody rag, hung over the spot of its going. And dusk crept over the sky from the eastern horizon, and darkness crept over the land from the east.
12. You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.
13. A sunset is the sun’s fiery kiss to the night.
14. Harry looked down and saw deep green mountains and lakes, coppery in the sunset.
15. And though I came to forget or regret all I have ever done, yet I would remember that once I saw the dragons aloft on the wind at sunset above the western isles; and I would be content.
16. Know what you want to do, hold the thought firmly, and do every day what should be done, and every sunset will see you that much nearer the goal.
17. And yet day and night meet fleetingly at twilight and dawn,” he said, lowering his voice again and narrowing his eyes and moving his head a quarter of an inch closer to hers. “And their merging sometimes affords the beholder the most enchanted moments of all the twenty four hours. A sunrise or sunset can be ablaze with brilliance and arouse all the passion, all the yearning, in the soul of the beholder.
18. She was a ray of sunshine, a warm summer rain, a bright fire on a cold winter’s day, and now she could be dead because she had tried to save the man she loved.
19. Bursts of gold on lavender melting into saffron. It’s the time of day when the sky looks like it has been spray-painted by a graffiti artist.
20. Every sunset is an opportunity to reset.
21. I don’t know how long we stay that way, but we watch the sun go down together. The giant, burnt-orange sphere sinks towards the horizon, coloring the rock layers until it’s gone and the canyon is covered in shadow.
22. Mouse-brained fool
23. Bright colours in the west, giant butterflies dancing as night crept like a cripple toward the east.
24. Tonight the sun has died like an Emperor … great scarlet arcs of silk … saffron … green … crimson … and the blaze of Venus to remind one of the absolute and the infinite … and along the lower rim of beauty lay the hard harsh line of the hills …
25. Once I saw a chimpanzee gaze at a particularly beautiful sunset for a full 15 minutes, watching the changing colors [and then] retire to the forest without picking a pawpaw for supper.
26. The sky, at sunset, looked like a carnivorous flower.
27. I can’t give you the sunset, but I can give you the night.
28. Sunrise paints the sky with pinks and the sunset with peaches. Cool to warm. So is the progression from childhood to old age.
29. The pale stars were sliding into their places. The whispering of the leaves was almost hushed. All about them it was still and shadowy and sweet. It was that wonderful moment when, for lack of a visible horizon, the not yet darkened world seems infinitely greater—a moment when anything can happen, anything be believed in.
30. If I can put one touch of rosy sunset into the life of any man or woman, I shall feel that I have worked with God.
31. One might fancy that day, the London day, was just beginning. Like a woman who had slipped off her print dress and white apron to array herself in blue and pearls, the day changed, put off stuff, took gauze, changed to evening, and with the same sigh of exhilaration that a woman breathes, tumbling petticoats on the floor, it too shed dust, heat, colour; the traffic thinned; motor cars, tinkling, darting, succeeded the lumber of vans; and here and there among the thick foliage of the squares an intense light hung. I resign, the evening seemed to say, as it paled and faded above the battlements and prominences, moulded, pointed, of hotel, flat, and block of shops, I fade, she was beginning. I disappear, but London would have none of it, and rushed her bayonets into the sky, pinioned her, constrained her to partnership in her revelry.
32. Sunset is a wonderful opportunity for us to appreciate all the great things the sun gives us!
33. In silence the three of them looked at the sunset and thought about God.
34. the redness had seeped from the day and night was arranging herself around us. Cooling things down, staining and dyeing the evening purple and blue black.
35. Now she’s lit by the warm orange spreading from the horizon as not-quite-day, becomes not-quite-night
36. But playing your music as loud as you want and coming home drunk aren’t real life. Real life, it turns out, is diapers and lawnmowers, decks that need painting, a wife that needs to be listened to, kids that need to be taught right from wrong, a checkbook, an oil change, a sunset behind a mountain, laughter at a kitchen table, too much wine, a chipped tooth, and a screaming child.
37. They captured in their ramble all the mysteries and magics of a March evening. Very still and mild it was, wrapped in a great, white, brooding silence — a silence which was yet threaded through with many little silvery sounds which you could hear if you hearkened as much with your soul as your ears. The girls wandered down a long pineland aisle that seemed to lead right out into the heart of a deep-red, overflowing winter sunset.
38. The man stopped talking and was looking at the sunset.
But what does someone who hates and loves want with a sunset?
39. Scarcely has night arrived to undeceive, unfurling her wings of crepe (wings drained even of the glimmer just now dying in the tree-tops); scarcely has the last glint still dancing on the burnished metal heights of the tall towers ceased to fade, like a still glowing coal in a spent brazier, which whitens gradually beneath the ashes, and soon is indistinguishable from the abandoned hearth, than a fearful murmur rises amongst them, their teeth chatter with despair and rage, they hasten and scatter in their dread, finding witches everywhere, and ghosts. It is night… and Hell will gape once more.
40. The afternoon slipped away while we talked — she talked brightly when any subject came up that interested her — and it was the last hour of day — that grave, still hour when the movement of life seems to droop and falter for a few precious minutes — that brought us the thing I had dreaded silently since my first night in the house.
41. The sun is setting in a burnt orange sky; the cliffs are black silhouettes; the sea, liquid silver.
42. A slight breeze cooled the Hawaiian spring air, swaying the branches of palm trees, which cast black silhouettes against the purple and orange colors of the twilight sky.
43. Outside the window, a bank of clouds appeared on the horizon, inching slowly across the sky, finally slipping across the Moon and blocking out its radiant light. As he clicked off his overhead light, he turned his eyes one last time to the heavens. Outside, in the newly fallen darkness, the world had been transformed. The sky had become a glistening tapestry of stars.
44. There can’t possibly be anything more beautiful than Seaside Beach at sunset.
45. Scattered with poppies, the golden-green waves of the cornfields faded. The red sun seemed to tip one end of a pair of scales below the horizon, and simultaneously to lift an orange moon at the other. Only two days off the full, it rose behind a wood, swiftly losing its flush as it floated up, until the wheat loomed out of the twilight like a metallic and prickly sea.
46. Call for the grandest of all earthly spectacles, what is that? It is the sun going to his rest.
47. The sun had already set behind the mountains, and the sky had been drained of color. The trellises of sauvignon blanc flowed down the hill in even rows toward the valley floor. Whatever I was looking for, it wasn’t outside. As far as I could tell, the grapes were minding their own business.
48. Moon in the sky, stars out, the wide-open expanse of nothing: it made him feel free and alive as the daytime never did.
49. During winter sunsets, standing on a promontory so I saw the scenic sea as a surface rather than a line and, as coal-boats appeared from all sides of the horizon, I thought that, as they opened their portholes, they would throw their coals onto this fire. They swarmed over the ocean like blowflies ready to devour the decomposed star, and the blank gesture of a cloud fanned them.
50. To leave out beautiful sunsets is the secret of good taste.
51. The sun tells the best joke of a day full of them, setting so spectacularly that you can almost smell the tropical paradise lazing somewhere over this rim of endless, gray socialist towers. Miles of square windows explode orange, red, and purple, like a million TV sets broadcasting the apocalypse. Clouds unspool. The sky drains of birds.
52. Sunset on the water ought to be a quiet and easy time, but I guess some people can’t stand a little silence.
53. When the ship approached the equator, I stopped going out on deck in the daytime. The sun burned like a flame. The days had shortened and night came swiftly. One moment it was light, the next it was dark. The sun did not set but fell into the water like a meteor. Late in the evening, when I went out briefly, a hot wind slapped my face. From the ocean came a roar of passions that seemed to have broken through all barriers:’We mus procreate and multiply! We must exhaust all the powers of lust!’ The waves glowed like lava, and I imagined I could see multitudes of living beings – algae, whales, sea monsters – reveling in an orgy, from the surface to the bottom of the sea. Immortality was the law here. The whole planet raged with animation. At times, I heard my name in the clamor: the spirit of the abyss calling me to join them in their nocturnal dance.
54. There was still an hour or two of daylight – even though clouds admitted only a greyish light upon the world, and his Uncle Timothy’s house was by nature friendly to gloom.
55. You don’t need beautiful weather to enjoy the evening. You only need a beautiful heart.
56. I notice simple things. The way your hands hold the book you are reading, expressions of your face and eagerness in your eyes while you watch the sunset.
57. I love sunrises and sunsets. But what I really love is the space that I have in-between them to do something incredible.
58. The sun was a juicy pink as it sank toward the water. Rex played “As Time Goes By.” The foie gras was good enough to shift Adrienne’s mood from despondent to merely poor. It was deliciously fatty, a heavenly richness balanced by the sweet roasted figs. Who wanted to be married and have children when she could be eating foie gras like this with a front-row seat for the sunset? Adrienne forgot her manners. She devoured her appetizer in five lusty bites, and then she helped herself to more caviar. She was starving.
59. Sunset is always wiser than sunrise because sunset has added the experience of an entire day to his soul!
60. Lydia can’t see it from the dark place where she is, but she can sense it. She knows that it’s the perfect time of day out there in the desert. She imagines the colors making a show of themselves outside. The glittering gray pavement, the aching red land. The colors streaking flamboyantly across the sky. When she closes her eyes, she can see them, the paint in the firmament. Dazzling. Purple, yellow, orange, pink, and blue. She can see those perfect colors, hot and bright, a feathered headdress. Beneath, the landscape stretches out its arms.