Easter Night Quotes

At the water's edge, barrels of pitch blazed like huge bonfires. Their reflection, crimson as the rising moon, crept to meet us in long, wide stripes. The burning barrels threw light on their own smoke and on the long human shadows that flitted about the fire; but further to the sides and behind them, where the velvet ringing rushed from, was the same impenetrable darkness. Suddenly slashing it open, the golden ribbon of a rocket soared skywards; it described an arc and, as if shattering against the sky, burst and came sifting down in sparks.
- Easter Night ~ Anton Chekhov

Ieronym took hold of the cable with both hands, curved himself into a question mark, and grunted. The ferry creaked and lurched. The silhouette of the peasant in the tall hat slowly began to recede from me--which meant that the ferry was moving. Soon Ieronym straightened up and began working with one hand. We were silent and looked at the bank towards which we were now moving. There the "lumination" which the peasant had been waiting for was already beginning. At the water's edge, barrels of pitch blazed like huge bonfires. Their reflection, crimson as the rising moon, crept to meet us in long, wide stripes. The burning barrels threw light on their own smoke and on the long human shadows that flitted about the fire; but further to the sides and behind them, where the velvet ringing rushed from, was the same impenetrable darkness. Suddenly slashing it open, the golden ribbon of a rocket soared skywards; it described an arc and, as if shattering against the sky, burst and came sifting down in sparks. On the bank a noise was heard resembling a distant "hoorah."

"How beautiful," I said.

"It's even impossible to say how beautiful!" sighed Ieronym. "It's that kind of night, sir! At other times you don't pay attention to rockets, but now any vain thing makes you glad. Where are you from? ~ Anton Chekhov

Be strong to hope, O Heart!
Though day is bright,
The stars can only shine
In the dark night.
Be strong, O Heart of mine,
Look towards the light! ~ Adelaide Anne Procter

Eve was tall. Her face had cheekbones. Her shoulders slumped when she walked. The shelves in her living room were bent beneath the books. She worked for a publisher; oh, you've heard of him, she said.
Her life was one in which everything was left undone - letters unanswered, bills on the floor, the butter sitting out all night. Perhaps that was why her husband had left her; he was even more hopeless than she. At least she was gay. She stepped from her littered doorway in pretty clothes, like a woman who lives in the barrio walking to a limousine, stray dogs and dirt on the way. ~ James Salter

I did everything when I started. In Miami I did news, I did weather, I did sports, I did disk-jockeying. And I did a sports talk show every week - every Saturday night. ~ Larry King

The 101st was trucked to Utah Beach on July 10, seeing from the land what they had seen from the air the night of June 5: hundreds of ships sitting off shore as far as the eye could see. Smaller boats, LSTs, LCMs and other craft carrying men and supplies plied the waters between the ships and the sand. "It took your breath away," he recalled. Winters saw something else he had not seen for more than a month, a sight that literally brought tears to his eyes: the American flag. In 2003, the memory still left him choked up. "I didn't realize how much the American flag meant to me," he said. ~ Larry Alexander

For all night long I dreamed of you:
I woke and prayed against my will, Then slept to dream of you again. ~ Christina Rossetti

You're never alone
When there is a whole sky to hug you tight.
You're never alone
When there are hundreds of stars looking upon you
each time you try tirelessly to sleep at night .
You're never alone my dear
as long as you have a breath to take
and a will to fight …. ~ Samiha Totanji

Ethan opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "That's an interesting analysis."
Dynasty reruns have been rolling nonstop on cable," Luc said.
Huh.
That was an interesting bit of information about our guard captain. ~ Chloe Neill

In the night, I hear 'em talk. Coldest story ever told. Somewhere far along this road he lost his soul. ~ Kanye West

His life had been ripped away from him without his being able to fight against it. That was difficult enough, but to know that the one woman that consumed his thoughts day and night, the one woman who captured his attention with a mere smile would never be his ...
It was beyond cruel. ~ Donna Grant

He raised a hand in response and tossed the ear of corn into the wagon. Then he
returned to his fantasy, imagining himself running the livery instead of working there, making the decisions, placing orders, selecting new horses, agreeing to board others, and
hiring a boy to muck out the stalls and pitch hay.
In his daydream, he no longer lived in the back room. He came home at night to a small house he'd bought with his earnings. Inside, a woman waited for him. A wife. In his fantasy her hair was as golden as the ear of corn he tossed into the wagon and her
eyes as blue as the cloudless sky overhead. Catherine smiled at him and he could hear as well as see her say his name. "Jim! Welcome home. ~ Bonnie Dee

That night, how could I sleep?
I lay and watched the lonely gloom;
And watched the moonlight creep
From wall to basin, round the room.
All night I could not sleep. ~ Rupert Brooke

The most miraculous process is watching a song go from a tiny idea in the middle of the night to something that 55,000 people are singing back to you. ~ Taylor Swift

So when their campfire was nothing but embers and the horses were dozing behind them, Ansel and Celaena lay on their backs on the side of a dune and stared up at the stars.
Her hands tucked behind her head, Celaena took a long, deep breath, savoring the balmy night breeze, the exhaustion ebbing from her limbs. She rarely got to see stars so bright - not with the lights of Rifthold. The wind moved across the dunes, and the sand sighed. "That's the stag," Celaena breathed. "The Lord of the North." ... the smile faded when she stared at the familiar constellation. "Because the stag remains constant - no matter the season, he's always there. ~ Sarah J. Maas

The only indication of the passage of time lies in the heavens, the subtle shift of the moon. So Peeta begins pointing it out to me, insisting I acknowledge its progress and sometimes, for just a moment I feel a flicker of hope before the agony of the night engulfs me again. ~ Suzanne Collins

Love, till dawn sunder night from day with fire Dividing my delight and my desire ... ~ Algernon Charles Swinburne

Tempestuous plains tell the tale,
Windswept wastes do bewail,
Haunting Spirit of the land,
Seeks the living, seeks the damned.

Horizoned edge sheared with grass,
Dark Storm Rising in the pass,
Ageless Spirit seeks the path,
To torment souls to the last.

Brooding Spirit upon the plain,
Thunderhead gathers for the rain.
Light grows dim then bolts with pain,
On dry Earth her sin is stained.

(Frightened creatures do stampede,
Into night, they do recede).

Ungodded hand on seasoned blade,
Reaps the harvest of the Age.

Released from her eternal din,
Spirit of the Age rises again.
Seeking to plunder and consume,
Those who were proud, those who presumed.

Spirits rage while storm draws nigh,
Upon burning plain and emblazoned sky.
It is said giants grapple in the Earth so deep,
To contend for souls that they might keep.

The Storm spirit now searches the high and the low,
To seek her manchild victim in the fields below.
Leaves bad wasteland to claim but a fallen man,
Denying it Heaven, crowning it, 'Son of the Damned.'

Treacherous Spirit of the far lost night,
Tramples souls down denying them light.
Storm seethes with furious hiss,
Leads men on to bottomless pit.

This most ancient of foes has come from her den,
To seek the living, to make ready those dead.
A living sa ~ Douglas M Laurent

At night the Garden was a place of shadows and moonlight, where you could more clearly hear all the illusions that went into making it what it was. ~ Dot Hutchison

What happens to me when I'm provoked is that I get tongue-tied and my mind goes blank. Then I spend all night tossing and turning trying to figure out what I should have said ~ Nora Ephron

How long the night to the watchman, How long the road to the weary traveller, How long the wandering of many lives To the fool who misses the way. ~ Gautama Buddha

I learned three things that night: 1) sharing a bed is't nearly as intimate as making out in a too-small back seat, 2) inexplicably, some bras unhook in the front, 3) Cassidy hadn't known I was Jewish. ~ Robyn Schneider

Then it happened. One night as the rain beat on the slanted kitchen roof a great spirit slipped forever into my life. I held his book in my hands and trembled as he spoke to me of man and the world, of love and wisdom, pain and guilt, and I knew I would never be the same. His name was Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoyevsky. He knew more of fathers and sons than any man in the world, and of brothers and sisters, priests and rogues, guilt and innocence. Dostoyevsky changed me. The Idiot, The Possessed, The Brothers Karamazov, The Gambler. He turned me inside out. I found I could breathe, could see invisible horizons. The hatred for my father melted. I loved my father, poor, suffering, haunted wretch. I loved my mother too, and all my family. It was time to become a man, to leave San Elmo and go out into the world. I wanted to think and feel like Dostoyevsky. I wanted to write.
The week before I left town the draft board summoned me to Sacramento for my physical. I was glad to go. Someone other than myself could make my decisions. The army turned me down. I had asthma. Inflammation of the bronchial tubes.
"That's nothing. I've always had it."
"See your doctor."
I got the needed information from a medical book at the public library. Was asthma fatal? It could be. And so be it. Dostoyevsky had epilepsy, I had asthma. To write well a man must have a fatal ailment. It was the only way to deal with the presence of death. ~ John Fante

Ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write [create]? Dig into yourself for a deep answer. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

I'll give you a few more minutes, but then I'm dragging you both out of here."

"We'll be out in a second, Mom," June says, and November nods then looks at me, and barks, "Don't mess up her hair. You still have pictures to take," before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Are you sure I can't take off your dress?" I ask, hearing November shout through the door, "Do it and die, Evan!"

Covering June's laughing mouth with my own, I pray silently that the night ends quickly. ~ Aurora Rose Reynolds

see the building after work. It was a perfect night with stars and a full moon just above the trees, which he took to be a sign. 'I felt so happy,' he recalls. 'My dream was coming true.' Naeem and my father invested their entire savings of 60,000 rupees. They borrowed 30,000 rupees more to repaint the building, rented a shack across the road to live in and went from door to door trying to find students. Unfortunately ~ Malala Yousafzai

Would a robber break in your home at night beating drums? Nope. This is how those who want to take advantage of your life come: Full of smiles and promising sincere friendship! ~ Bangambiki Habyarimana

It was a dark and stormy night. The wind howled and twigs and leaves scuffled and rattled past the house. Mr and Mrs White sat in the parlour of their cosy home, in front of a blazing fire. Mr White played chess with his only son, Herbert. His wife sat in a rocking chair knitting and watching as they played. ~ W.W. Jacobs

The cold snows and the piercing winds all remind thee that He keeps His covenant with day and night, and tend to assure thee that He will also keep that glorious covenant which He has made with thee in the person of Christ Jesus. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon

No shadow without light,
Every day follows night,
Between black and white,
There is gray. ~ Jay Kristoff

The blacksmith's boy went out with a rifle
and a black dog running behind.
Cobwebs snatched at his feet,
rivers hindered him,
thorn branches caught at his eyes to make him blind
and the sky turned into an unlucky opal,
but he didn't mind.
I can break branches, I can swim rivers, I can stare out
any spider I meet,
said he to his dog and his rifle.

The blacksmith's boy went over the paddocks
with his old black hat on his head.
Mountains jumped in his way,
rocks rolled down on him,
and the old crow cried, You'll soon be dead.
And the rain came down like mattocks.
But he only said,
I can climb mountains, I can dodge rocks, I can shoot an old crow any day,
and he went on over the paddocks.

When he came to the end of the day, the sun began falling,
Up came the night ready to swallow him,
like the barrel of a gun,
like an old black hat,
like a black dog hungry to follow him.
Then the pigeon, the magpie and the dove began wailing
and the grass lay down to pillow him.
His rifle broke, his hat blew away and his dog was gone and the sun was falling.

But in front of the night, the rainbow stood on the mountain,
just as his heart foretold.
He ran like a hare,
he climbed like a fox;
he caught it in his hands, the colours and the cold -
like a bar of ice, like the column of a fountain,
like a ring of gold.
Judith A. Wright

What keeps me up at night? Anxiety. Anxiety, the inability to go to sleep, it's quite literally that. ~ Paul Auster

I looked at the back of Jessica's silky bent head and thought of those old stories where one twin is hurt and the other, miles away, feels the pain. I wondered if there had been a moment, during that giggly girls' night at Auntie Vera's, when she had made some small, unnoticed sound; if all the answers we wanted were locked away behind the strange dark gateways of her mind. ~ Tana French

He stared at her in insolent silence, unable to believe the alluring, impulsive girl he remembered had become this coolly aloof, self-possessed young woman. Even with her dusty clothes and the smear of dirt on her cheek, Elizabeth Cameron was strikingly beautiful, but she'd changed so much that-except for the eyes-he scarcely recognized her. One thing hadn't changed: She was still a schemer and a liar.
Straightening abruptly from his stance in the doorway, Ian walked forward. "I've had enough of this charade, Miss Cameron. No one invited you here, and you damn well know it."
Blinded with wrath and humiliation, Elizabeth groped in her reticule and snatched out the handwritten letter her uncle had received inviting Elizabeth to join Ian there. Marching up to him, she slapped the invitation against his chest. Instinctively he caught it but didn't open it.
"Explain that," she commanded, backing away and then waiting.
"Another note, I'll wager," he drawled sarcastically, thinking of the night he'd gone to the greenhouse to meet her and recalling what a fool he'd been about her.
Elizabeth stood beside the table, determined to have the satisfaction of hearing his explanation before she left-not that anything he said could make her stay. When he showed no sign of opening it, she turned furiously to Jake, who was sorely disappointed that Ian was deliberately chasing off two females who could surely be persuaded to do the cooking if they stayed. "Make him read ~ Judith McNaught

I loved wintertime in Kabul. I loved it for the soft pattering of snow against
my window at night, for the way fresh snow crunched under my black rubber boots,
for the warmth of the cast-iron stove as the wind screeched through the yards,
the streets. But mostly because, as the trees froze and ice sheathed the roads,
the chill between Baba and me thawed a little. And the reason for that was the
kites. Baba and I lived in the same house, but in different spheres of
existence. Kites were the one paper thin slice of intersection between those
spheres. ~ Khaled Hosseini

I say three prayers every night to make sure that God knows I thank him so much. ~ Jackie Evancho

I leave my heart on the court every night. I earn my keep. ~ Eli Manning

His mouth said: "Would you like to have dinner tonight?" For just the skin of a second, Miss Dearheart was surprised, but not half as surprised as Moist. Then her natural cynicism reinflated.
"I like to have dinner every night. With you? No. I have things to do. Thank you for asking."
"No problem," said Moist, slightly relieved. ~ Terry Pratchett

Nothing is quite clear from the drug-fueled night when a blaze set in her apartment killed the little boy upstairs. But when the media brands Jess a child-killer, she starts to believe it herself. ~ M.R. Carey