Top Midnight Sun Quotes

Browse top 22 famous quotes and sayings about Midnight Sun by most favorite authors.

Favorite Midnight Sun Quotes

1. "And with light lips yet full of their swift smile,And hands that wist not though they dug a grave,Undid the hasps of gold, and drank, and gave,And he drank after, a deep glad kingly draught:And all their life changed in them, for they quaffedDeath; if it be death so to drink, and fareAs men who change and are what these twain were.And shuddering with eyes full of fear and fireAnd heart-stung with a serpentine desireHe turned and saw the terror in her eyesThat yearned upon him shining in such wiseAs a star midway in the midnight fixed. Their Galahault was the cup, and she that mixed;Nor other hand there needed, nor sweet speechTo lure their lips together; each on eachHung with strange eyes and hovered as a birdWounded, and each mouth trembled for a world;Their heads neared, and their hands were drawn in one,And they saw dark, though still the unsunken sunFar through fine rain shot fire into the south;And their four lips became one burning mouth."
Author: Algernon Charles Swinburne
2. "The other side of midnight's hour strikes a herald thrice rungSeer, Shadow, Sun—together they comeSixteen winters hence—the light shall be eclipsedLeaving darkness to ascend beneath a sky bleeding fire"
Author: Alyson Noel
3. "I know you think this world is too dark to even dream in color,but I've seen flowers bloom at midnight.I've seen kites fly in gray skiesand they were real close to looking like the sunrise,and sometime it takes the most wounded wingsthe most broken thingsto notice how strong the breeze is,how precious the flight."
Author: Andrea Gibson
4. "Is there any finer phrase in the English language than Midsummer Day? There are no words to touch it for conjuring. It is the beginning of blooming roses and ripening corn, of days that stretch on, reaching for midnight until the spangled blue velvet of night descends and beginning again before cockcrow, when the dew jewels the grass like diamonds scattered while the earth slumbers. I, of course, expected rain. Not just rain, but torrential, heaving, biblical rain—the sort to set arks afloat. Everything else had gone awry, why not that? But when I awoke on Midsummer Day, the sun greeted me cordially, coaxing the dew from the grass and the early roses as a light breeze wafted the scent of charred chimney over the gardens. I stood at the window and breathed in deeply all the scents of summer, fresh grass and carp ponds and blossoming herb knots until the whole of it mingled in my head and made me dizzy. A bee floated lazily in the window and out again as if beckoning me to follow."
Author: Deanna Raybourn
5. "After all, what is it?- this indescribable something which men will persist in terming "genius"? I agree with Buffon- with Hogarth- it is but diligence after all.Look at me!- how I labored- how I toiled- how I wrote! Ye Gods, did I not write? I knew not the word "ease." By day I adhered to my desk, and at night, a pale student, I consumed the midnight oil. You should have seen me- you should. I leaned to the right. I leaned to the left. I sat forward. I sat backward. I sat tete baissee (as they have it in the Kickapoo), bowing my head close to the alabaster page. And, through all, I- wrote. Through joy and through sorrow, I-wrote. Through hunger and through thirst, I-wrote. Through good report and through ill report- I wrote. Through sunshine and through moonshine, I-wrote. What I wrote it is unnecessary to say. The style!- that was the thing. I caught it from Fatquack- whizz!- fizz!- and I am giving you a specimen of it now."
Author: Edgar Allan Poe
6. "Good Morning—Midnight—I'm coming Home—Day—got tired of Me—How could I—of Him?Sunshine was a sweet place—I liked to stay—But Morn—didn't want me—now—So—Goodnight—Day!I can look—can't I—When the East is Red?The Hills—have a way—then—That puts the Heart—abroad—You—are not so fair—Midnight—I chose—Day—But—please take a little Girl—He turned away!"
Author: Emily Dickinson
7. "(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
8. "There came to that room wild streams of violet midnight glittering with dust of gold, vortices of dust and fire, swirling out of the ultimate spaces and heavy perfumes from beyond the worlds. Opiate oceans poured there, litten by suns that the eye may never behold and having in their whirlpools strange dolphins and sea-nymphs of unrememberable depths. Noiseless infinity eddied around the dreamer and wafted him away without touching the body that leaned stiffly from the lonely window; and for days not counted in men's calandars the tides of far spheres that bore him gently to join the course of other cycles that tenderly left him sleeping on a green sunrise shore, a green shore fragrant with lotus blossums and starred by red camalates..."
Author: H.P. Lovecraft
9. "?Pleasure is wild and sweet. She likes purple flowers. She loves the sun and the wind and the night sky. She carries a silver bowl full of liquid moonlight. She has a cat named Midnight with stars on his paws. Many people mistrust Pleasure, and even more misunderstand her. For a long time I could barely stand to be in ...the same room with her..."
Author: J. Ruth Gendler
10. "The months came and went, and back and forth they twisted through the uncharted vastness, where no men were and yet where men had been if the Lost Cabin were true. They went across divides in summer blizzards, shivered under the midnight sun on naked mountains between the timber line and the eternal snows, dropped into summer valleys amid swarming gnats and flies, and in the shadows of glaciers picked strawberries and flowers as ripe and fair as any the Southland could boast. In the fall of the year they penetrated a weird lake country, sad and silent, where wild- fowl had been, but where then there was no life nor sign of life— only the blowing of chill winds, the forming of ice in sheltered places, and the melancholy rippling of waves on lonely beaches."
Author: Jack London
11. "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
12. "TIS the year's midnight, and it is the day's,Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks ; The sun is spent, and now his flasks Send forth light squibs, no constant rays ; The world's whole sap is sunk ;The general balm th' hydroptic earth hath drunk,Whither, as to the bed's-feet, life is shrunk,Dead and interr'd ; yet all these seem to laugh,Compared with me, who am their epitaph."
Author: John Donne
13. "My soul is wrapped in harsh repose,Midnight descends in raven-colored clothes,But soft... behold!A sunlight beamButting a swath of glimmering gleam.My heart expands,'tis grown a bulge in it,Inspired by your beauty...Effulgent."
Author: Joss Whedon
14. "Oh, Lucia the captain said softly, you are so little and so lovely. how I would have liked to have taken you to Norway and shown you the fiords in the midnight sun, and to China- what you've missed, Lucia, by being born too late to travel the Seven Seas with me! And what I've missed, too."
Author: R.A. Dick
15. "He smiles then, and even though it is well past midnight, its as if the sun has just come out."
Author: R.L. LaFevers
16. "That country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain."
Author: Ray Bradbury
17. "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
18. "There are our ghosts,' Smithers said.It was a word he liked to use, said Brewster. Like most of us Brewster had read a few ghost stories, and to him the word 'ghosts' summoned up the creaking floorboards of a haunted house, shrouded white figures gliding silently through darkness, fluttering robes moving of their own bodiless accord, strangely transparent coaches travelling swiftly down a midnight road, and other such images quite remote from the chanting and drumming of desert folk in gaudy garb, with jingling anklets and necklaces, under a hot fierce sun. But the sounds of the Thar came from some invisible source, and to Smithers they were sounds made by ghosts.("Smithers And The Ghosts Of The Thar")"
Author: Robert Silverberg
19. "Could a dead, frozen heart break? It felt like mine would....She was dreaming of me, and it wasn't even a nightmare. She wanted me to staywith her, there in her dream.I struggled to find words to name the feelings that flooded through me, but I had no words strong enough to hold them. For a long moment, I drowned in them.When I surfaced, I was not the same man I had been.My life was an unending, unchanging midnight. It must, by necessity, always be midnight for me. So how was it possible that the sun was rising now, in the middle of my midnight?"
Author: Stephenie Meyer
20. "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
21. "Disarmed, defeated but elated,I knew at once you were the one.That meeting was, no doubt fated.You are my own midnight sun."
Author: Tatyana K. Varenko
22. "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

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You'll live. Only the best get killed."
Author: Charles De Gaulle

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