Top Midnight Love Quotes

Browse top 28 famous quotes and sayings about Midnight Love by most favorite authors.

Favorite Midnight Love Quotes

1. "Fierce midnights and famishing morrows, And the loves that complete and controlAll the joys of the flesh, all the sorrowsThat wear out the soul."
Author: Algernon Charles Swinburne
2. "Toward midnight he sat in the Raney Playground swings with his broken, disloyal heart continuing to pump behind his ribs. Maybe fifty feet away his daughter was in her bed, reeling, thinking it out, a thousand betrayals and loves and resentments riding the synapses between brain and heart and back again."
Author: Anthony Doerr
3. "Who will you be my Little Ones?Who will you be, my Little Ones?Will you dance for the fires of your youthand run at midnight to water's edge,diving into summer's heat?Will you ride a wild mareto any thought or dream or love of your making?Will you seek the artistry of your own infatuationsand explore all the reckless and eccentric cornersof your own impetuous world?"
Author: Carew Papritz
4. "We played this game from the west village to the upper east side til around midnight when the Chrysler building was far behind us and we weren't sure if we were in love anymore."
Author: Darnell Lamont Walker
5. "What if we take away the cool music and the cushioned chairs? What if the screens are gone and the stage is no longer decorated? What if the air conditioning is off and the comforts are removed? Would his Word still be enough for his people to come together? At Brook Hills we decided to try to answer this question. We actually stripped away the entertainment value and invited people to come together simply to study God's Word for hours at a time. We called it Secret Church. We set a date—one Friday night—when we would gather from six o'clock in the evening until midnight, and for six hours we would do nothing but study the Word and pray. We would interrupt the six-hour Bible study periodically to pray for our brothers and sisters around the world who are forced to gather secretly. We would also pray for ourselves, that we would learn to love the Word as they do."
Author: David Platt
6. "What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,I have forgotten, and what arms have lainUnder my head till morning, but the rainIs full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sighUpon the glass and listen for reply,And in my heart there stirs a quiet painFor unremembered lads that not againWill turn to me at midnight with a cry.Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree,Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:I cannot say what loves have come and gone,I only know that summer sang in meA little while, that in me sings no more."
Author: Edna St. Vincent Millay
7. "Rain, midnight rain, nothing but the wild rainOn this bleak hut, and solitude, and meRemembering again that I shall dieAnd neither hear the rain nor give it thanksFor washing me cleaner than I have beenSince I was born into this solitude.Blessed are the dead that the rain rains upon:But here I pray that none whom once I lovedIs dying to-night or lying still awakeSolitary, listening to the rain,Either in pain or thus in sympathyHelpless among the living and the dead,Like a cold water among broken reeds,Myriads of broken reeds all still and stiff,Like me who have no love which this wild rainHas not dissolved except the love of death,If love it be towards what is perfect andCannot, the tempest tells me, disappoint."
Author: Edward Thomas
8. "(visions) of strange cities, of sandy plains, of gigantic ruins, of midnight skies with strange bright constellations, of mountain-passes, of grassy nooks flecked with the afternoon sunshine through the boughs: I was in the midst of such scenes, and in all of them one presence seemed to weigh on me in all these mighty shapes - the presence of something unknown and pitiless. For continual suffering had annihilated religious faith within me: to the utterly miserable - the unloving and the unloved - there is no religion possible, no worship but a worship of devils. And beyond all these, and continually recurring, was the vision of my death - the pangs, the suffocation, the last struggle, when life would be grasped at in vain. ("The Lifted Veil")"
Author: George Eliot
9. "My Serinity,Thee, my serenity, one can not bear, Seeing thee befuddled, bereaved,Dimmed like the midnight, secluded, darkened,Thee, my serenity,A window to my eyes, A window to laughter, and peace of mind,Thee, my serenity, one can not bear,Seeing thee wail, whine, cry,Like a gloomy, mourning brume,Thee, my serenity,Soared through fervor and delight,To the crown of heavens, the Almighty Myth,One can not bear, Seeing thee prostrate, razed, demure,Upon the dimmed streets, crawling, for a sight of the lune,Thee, my birdy in love, What befall to thy song, The very chant of my life, Cut short, stopped, along with all I gasp,Thee, my serenity, one can not bear,Seeing thee, caged in thy own night, Encumbered, through thy own heart,Lean on my shoulders now,My beautiful, wonderful Lily,That thee shall not fear, the sorrow of,Of being lonely, apart, not having a peer,As I promise, to my most dear,The girl to my heart, always near,Come what may, don't age a year,That I will be, forever here,"
Author: Hamidreza Bagheri
10. "I want to be intoxicated by the darkened ether of midnight, running through my fingers as sparkling stardust. I crave the taste of the ocean's salty tears, as her temperamental tides crash and break against the rocks. I yearn for the sweet scent of sun on my skin and the earthy musk of dirt giving way under my bare feet. I want to lay naked in golden fields, as i gaze up at an endless sky, dreaming my dreams, as Mother Nature's love washes over me like spiritual sunshine."
Author: Jaeda DeWalt
11. "I ne'er was stuck before that hour,With love so sudden and so sweet.Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower,And stole my heart away complete.My face turned pale as deadly pale. My legs refused to walk away.And when she looked, what could I ail?My life and all seemed turned to clay."And then my blood rushed to my face,And took my eyesight quite away.The trees and bushes round the place,Seemed midnight at noonday.I could not see a single thing,Words from my eyes did start,They spoke as chords do from the string,And blood burnt round my heart."Are flowers the winter's choice?Is love bed's always snow?She seemed to hear my silent voice,Not love's appeals to know.I never saw so sweet a faceAs that I stood before.My heart has left its dwelling-placeAnd can turn no more."
Author: John Clare
12. "Eres es la explosión de rosas en un cuarto oscuro.O el sabor inesperado y dulce en el té que tomamos en StarbucksYou are the moon that gives midnight its meaning.And the explanation of water for all living things.You are my compass,A sapphire,A bookmark,A rare coin,Un trompo,Un canica,De mi juventud.Eres miel y canelachocolate y jamoncillo.You are rare spices lost from a boatThat was once sailed by Cortez.Eres un rosa, prensado en un libroun anillo de perla de herenciay un frasco de perfume rojo que se encuentran cerca de las orillas del Nilo.You are an old soul from an ancient place,A thousand years and centuries and milleniums ago.And you have traveld all this way…Just so that I could love you…And,I do."
Author: José N. Harris
13. "It is I who drink lonely Drinks at twelve, midnight, in hotels of strange towns, It is I who laugh, it is I who make love And then, feel shame, it is I who lie dying With a rattle in my throat. I am sinner, I am saint. I am the beloved and the Betrayed. I have no joys that are not yours, no Aches which are not yours. I too call myself I."
Author: Kamala Das
14. "All we know, Midnight. The best of all we know. For Chestry Valley and its master we loved. For Nana. For Sugarloaf and Brimstone Farm. For Pop and Mom and Tom. For the foals to come. For yesterday and for all tomorrows, we dance the best we know. For good-by."
Author: Kate Seredy
15. "A hundred years or more, she's bent her crownin storm, in sun, in moonsplashed midnight breeze.surviving all the random vagariesof this harsh world. A dense - twigged veil drifts downfrom crown along her trunk - mourning slow woodthat rustles tattered, in a hint of windthis January dusk, cloudy, purplingthe ground with sudden shadows. How she broods -you speculate - on dark surprise and loss,alone these many years, despondent, bent,her bolt-cracked mate transformed to splinters, moss.Though not alone, you feel the sadness of atwilight breeze. There's never enough love;the widow nods to you. Her branches moan."
Author: Lauren Lipton
16. "Say it.""Don't do this to me..." I whispered painfully. "We can't do this again.""You're a horrible liar," Eli growled as he pressed his fingers into my thighs. He watched me, his gaze all-consuming, and said, "Your eyes are as dark as a castle moat by midnight, mi cielo. Lower your drawbridge and let me cross; let me in.""Eli, I-""Forget him. For the next hour and a half, you're going to do everything that makes you wonder in this world. And then I'm going to love you again."
Author: Nadège Richards
17. "Just like that. Gone forever. They will not grow old together. They will never live on a beach by the sea, their hair turned white, dancing in a living room to Billie Holiday or Nat Cole. They will not enter a New York club at midnight and show the poor hip-hop fools how to dance. They will not chuckle together over the endless folly of the world, its vanities and stupid ambitions. They will not hug each other in any chilly New York dawn. Oh, Mary Lou. My baby. My love."
Author: Pete Hamill
18. "Oh God, midnight's not bad, you wake and go back to sleep, one or two's not bad, you toss but sleep again. Five or six in the morning, there's hope, for dawn's just under the horizon. But three, now, Christ, three A.M.! Doctors say the body's at low tide then. The soul is out. The blood moves slow. You're the nearest to dead you'll ever be save dying. Sleep is a patch of death, but three in the morn, full wide-eyed staring, is living death! You dream with your eyes open. God, if you had strength to rouse up, you'd slaughter your half-dreams with buckshot! But no, you lie pinned to a deep well-bottom that's burned dry. The moon rolls by to look at you down there, with its idiot face. It's a long way back to sunset, a far way on to dawn, so you summon all the fool things of your life, the stupid lovely things done with people known so very well who are now so very dead – And wasn't it true, had he read somewhere, more people in hospitals die at 3 A.M. than at any other time..."
Author: Ray Bradbury
19. "Birthdays were wretched, delicious things when you lived in Beau Rivage. The clock stuck midnight, and presents gave way to magic.Curses bloomed.Girls bit into sharp apples instead of birthday cake, chocked on the ruby-and-white slivers, and collapsed into enchanted sleep. Unconscious beneath cobweb canopies, frozen in coffins of glass, they waited for their princes to come. Or they tricked ogres, traded their voices for love, danced until their glass slippers cracked.A prince would awaken, roused by the promise of true love, and find he had a witch to destroy. A heart to steal. To tear from the rib cage, where it was cushioned by bloody velvet, and deliver it to the queen who demanded the princess's death. Girls became victims and heroines.Boys became lovers and murderers.And sometimes... they became both."
Author: Sarah Cross
20. "Sal loves Dale like midnight loves stars. So far, he hasn't noticed."
Author: Sheila Turnage
21. "Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where they strung up a man they say murdered three. Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree. Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where the dead man called out for his love to flee. Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree. Are you, are you Coming to the tree Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free. Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree Are you, are you Coming to the tree Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me. Strange things did happen here No stranger would it be If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree."
Author: Suzanne Collins
22. "I?I walk alone;The midnight streetSpins itself from under my feet;My eyes shutThese dreaming houses all snuff out;Through a whim of mineOver gables the moon's celestial onionHangs high.IMake houses shrinkAnd trees diminishBy going far; my look's leashDangles the puppet-peopleWho, unaware how they dwindle,Laugh, kiss, get drunk,Nor guess that if I choose to blinkThey die.IWhen in good humour,Give grass its greenBlazon sky blue, and endow the sunWith gold;Yet, in my wintriest moods, I holdAbsolute powerTo boycott color and forbid any flowerTo be.IKnow you appearVivid at my side,Denying you sprang out of my head,Claiming you feelLove fiery enough to prove flesh real,Though it's quite clearAll your beauty, all your wit, is a gift, my dear,From me."Soliloquy of the Solipsist", 1956"
Author: Sylvia Plath
23. "Displaced Person's SongIf you see a train this evening,Far away, against the sky,Lie down in your woolen blanket,Sleep and let the train go by.Trains have called us, every midnight,From a thousand miles away,Trains that pass through empty cities,Trains that have no place to stay.No one drives the locomotive,No one tends the staring light,Trains have never needed riders,Trains belong to bitter night.Railway stations stand deserted,Rights-of-way lie clear and cold,What we left them, trains inherit,Trains go on, and we grow old.Let them cry like cheated lovers,Let their cries find only wind,Trains are meant for night and ruin,And we are meant for song and sin."
Author: Thomas Pynchon
24. "For a more than miffed Midnight, fate was for emperors, fools and soppy lovers: - fate was the self-important egotism of those doing well, the sheer unbearable arrogance of the living and loved."
Author: Tom Conrad
25. "He was my North, my South, my East and West,My working week and my Sunday rest,My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong."
Author: W.H. Auden
26. "Funeral BluesStop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,Silence the pianos and with muffled drumBring out the coffin, let the mourners come.Let aeroplanes circle moaning overheadScribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.He was my North, my South, my East and West,My working week and my Sunday rest,My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;For nothing now can ever come to any good."
Author: W.H. Auden
27. "By day it is filled with boat traffic - waterbuses, delivery boats, gondolas - if something floats and it's in Venice, it moves along the Grand Canal.And by daylight it is one of the glories of the Earth.But at night, especially when the moon is fulland the soft illumination reflects off the water andonto the palaces - I don't know how to describeit so I won't, but if you died and in your will youasked for your ashes to be spread gently on theGrand Canal at midnight with a full moon,everyone would know this about you - you loved and understood beauty."
Author: William Goldman
28. "The iron tongue of Midnight hathtold twelve lovers, to bed; 'tisalmost fairy time. I fear weshall outstep the coming mornas much as we this night over-watch'd."
Author: William Shakespeare

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