All posts tagged: night

Muse of the Day

Published by L. Stevens

A library at night is full of sounds: the unread books can’t stand it any longer and announce their contents, some boasting, some shy, some devious. Helen Oyeyemi, What Is Not Yours Is Not Yours

Muse of the Day

Published by L. Stevens

Everything was an adventure, at night, when you were where you shouldn’t be, even if it was somwhere you could go perfectly well in daylight, and it was then only ordinary. Robin McKinley, Pegasus

Muse of the Day

Published by L. Stevens

I’m hungry for a juicy life. I lean out my window at night and I can taste it out there, just waiting for me. Brigid Lowry, Guitar Highway Rose

Muse of the Day

Published by L. Stevens

Night is a time of rigor, but also of mercy. There are truths which one can see only when it’s dark Isaac Bashevis Singer, Teibele And Her Demon

We love the night and its quiet; and there is no night that we love so well as that on which the moon is coffined in clouds. Fitz-James O’Brien, Classic Ghost Stories by Wilkie Collins, M.R. James, Charles Dickens and Others

Muse of the Day

Published by L. Stevens

There was a sky somewhere above the tops of the buildings, with stars and a moon and all the things there are in a sky, but they were content to think of the distant street lights as planets and stars. If the lights prevented you from seeing the heavens, then preform a little magic and change reality to fit the need. The street lights were now planets and stars and moon. Hubert Selby Jr., Requiem for a Dream

Muse of the Day

Published by L. Stevens

It was a wonderful night, such a night as is only possible when we are young, dear reader. Fyodor Dostoevsky, White Nights

Muse of the Day

Published by L. Stevens

There are very few friends that will lie down with you on empty streets in the middle of the night, without a word. No questions, no asking why, just quietly lay there with you, observing the stars, until you’re ready to get back up on your feet again and walk the last bit home, softly holding your hand as a quiet way of saying “I’m here”.It was a beautiful night. Charlotte Eriksson, Empty Roads & Broken Bottles: in search for The Great Perhaps