A liberal is a man or a woman or a child who looks forward to a better day, a more tranquil night, and a bright, infinite future.
For the women who mourn their dead in the secret night,
For the children taught to keep quiet, the old children,
The children spat-on at school.
For the wrecked laboratory,
The gutted house, the dunged picture, the pissed-in well
The naked corpse of Knowledge flung in the square
And no man lifting a hand and no man speaking.
We heard the shots in the night
But nobody knew next day what the trouble was
And a man must go to his work.
So I didn't see him
For three days, then, and me near out of my mind
And all the patrols on the streets with their dirty guns
And when he came back, he looked drunk, and the blood was on him.
The short winters day was drawing to a close. It seems to me sometimes that these are the only days I have ever known, and especially that most charming moment of all, just before night wipes them out.
I have always been amazed at my contemporaries lack of finesse, I whose soul writhed from morning to night, in the mere quest of itself.
You can make all the excuses you want, but if you're not mentally tough and you're not prepared to play every night, you're not going to win.
For him no silver cressets shed their light,
No eager joy-bells sounded through the night
From city minster, or from village tower;
No loud "hurrahs," sent from deep-chested men,
Lifted the midnight mist from off the glen
In celebration of his natal hour.
My soul has gained the freedom of the night.
It is a view of God that compensates every thing else, and enables the soul to rest in His bosom. How, when the child in the night screams with terror, hearing sounds that it knows not of, is that child comforted and put to rest? Is it by a philosophical explanation that the sounds were made by the rats in the partition? Is it by imparting entomological knowledge? No; it is by the mother taking the child in her lap, and singing sweetly to it, and rocking it. And the child thinks nothing of the explanation, but only of the mother.
May we feel after Thee; still calling out in the darkness, as children waking in the night call "Father," so may we call out for God; and, at times, even if we do not hear Thy voice, may there be the form of a hand resting upon us, and that shall be enough; for we shall take hold of it, though it be in the dark, and it shall guide us to the growing light; for the day shall come, and the release and triumph.
That I grow sour, who only lack delight;
That I descend to sneer, who only grieve;
That from my depth I should
condemn your height,
That with my blame my mockery you receive
Huntress and splendor of the woodland night
Diana of this world, do not believe.
In soft deluding lies let fools delight. A shadow marks our days, which end in Night.
I am a believer in unconscious cerebration. The brain is working all the time, though we do not know it. At night it follows up what we think in the daytime. When I have worked a long time on one thing, I make it a point to bring all the facts regarding it together before I retire; I have often been surprised at the results... We are thinking all the time; it is impossible not to think.
Set your goals high and then go home at night and think about three things youve accomplished, not the seven you didnt.
Say anything you want against The Seventh Seal. My fear of death this infantile fixation of mine was, at that moment, overwhelming. I felt myself in contact with death day and night, and my fear was tremendous. When I finished the picture, my fear went away. I have the feeling simply of having painted a canvas in an enormous hurry with enormous pretension but without any arrogance. I said, 'Here is a painting; take it, please.'
The dialogue is laughably cheesy throughout, but perhaps that's part of Basic Instinct's appeal. In fact, there are times when the film comes close to achieving a status where it's so bad it becomes entertaining. ... If you're looking for an intelligent thriller with real characters, Basic Instinct will seem like a fraud. If, on the other hand, you don't care whether the story makes sense and all you're in search of are cheap thrills and naked bodies, the movie delivers. Then again, so does a lot of Cinemax's late night programming.
No more talk of gloomy Angel, though. Only happy thoughts. Sunshine, picnic, that spell we did last night. With the oil?
At ten o'clock every night, we'd hear (he bangs his fist against the wall) and that was our alarm, so we almost ended up naming the band 'Ten PM Stocker', 'cause we recorded on Stocker Street every night and at 10 PM, we had to stop.
I was born about a quarter of a mile from where we are sitting now and I was here in London during the Blitz. And every night I went down into the shelter. 500 people killed, my brother was killed, my friends were killed. And when the Charter of the UN was read to me, I was a pilot coming home in a troop ship: 'We the peoples of the United Nations determined to save succeeding generations from the scourge of war, which twice in our lifetime has brought untold sorrow to mankind.' That was the pledge my generation gave to the younger generation and you tore it up. And it's a war crime that's been committed in Iraq, because there is no moral difference between a stealth bomber and a suicide bomber. Both kill innocent people for political reasons.
Calmer than midnight's deepest bush
Is the sun-bright Summer nooning,
With its cloudy shadows seeking rest,
That fall on the hillside swooning.
Great Night with its solemn starry eyes,
Over Day's gate asks us whither We go,
what our password is,
To the camp beyond the river. ...
All quiet along the Potomac to-night,
No sound save the rush of the river,
While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead
The picket s off duty forever.
For a young man, sleep is a sure solvent of distress. There whirls not for him in the night any so hideous phantasmagoria as will not become, in the clarity of the next morning, a spruce procession for him to lead. Brief the vague horror of his awakening; memory sweeps back to him, and he sees nothing dreadful after all. "Why not?" is the suns bright message to him, and "Why not indeed?" his answer.
This cabinet is formed of gold
And pearl and crystal shining bright,
And within it opens into a world
And a little lovely moony night.
God appears and god is light
To those poor souls who dwell in night
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day
Every night, and every morn,
Some to misery are born.
Every morn, and every night,
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to endless night.