Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Nocturnal. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Nocturnal Quotes And Sayings by 99 Authors including Tiffany Reisz,Samuel Johnson,Mehek Bassi,Joseph Conrad,Barry Pain for you to enjoy and share.
Every night, my love. All nights are yours.
My nights are flatulent and unquiet.
Nights are rebellious, they only demand the truth
Night, the inevitable reward of men's faithful labors on this earth ...
Outside everything was uncannily visible in the light of the full moon, but here in the dark shaded alleys the night was conscious of itself. ("The Moon Slave")
Midnight brought on the dusky hour Friendliest to sleep and silence.
Charming hour of the day, particularly when, as sometimes happens, it is also that of the setting sun whose last rays, raking the street from end to end, lend to my cenotaph an interminable shadow, astraddle of the gutter and the sidewalk.
There are many shadows in the night.
Each night I lie down in a graveyard of memories. Moonlight spins a shroud about me.
Night never needs a shade
but it requires to fade
into the grin of twinkling stars
where light is just a glint of scars
Night. Heavenly delicious sweet night of the desert that calls all of us to love her. The night is our comfort with her coolness and darkness. On wings, on feet, on our bellies, out we all come to glory in the night.
I've always been a night owl.
Maybe it's the shadows that beckon, but I've created some of my nastiest work in the middle of the night.
In those hours he is awake and prowling through the building, he sometimes feels he is a demon who has disguised himself as a human, and only at night is it safe to shed the costume he must wear by daylight, and indulge his true nature.
The morning is a stealthy hunter, my father used to say. It sneaks up quiet and quick on the night and overtakes it.
I'm a night person; I don't usually get up till noon.
Night will always remain a cat's magical, fanciful time.
Night is a great gift from God" he said."It is the mother of man and comes quietly and tenderly to cover him.It rests its cool hand on his forehead and effaces the day's cares from his body and soul.Brothers its time to surrender ourselves to night's embrace
Sleep calls to me from a land of foreign dignitaries I know not by name as I visit rarely often. The ticket in my hand, only word: "Darkness
There is beauty and wild magic in the night.
Night is the time to weep,To wet with unseen tearsThose graves of memory where sleepThe joys of other years.
I'm not a creature of the night, mate.
The primitive in each of us climbs closer to the surface during the night, for the moon sings to it, and the cold void between the stars speaks its language. To that savage self, evil can look lovely in too little light.
Writing for the theater, you find yourself living a nocturnal life.
What's done at night belongs to the night. In the daytime you don't talk about it.
I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day.
The night is the means by which we find our heart's desire, our freedom for love. This is not to say that all darkness
All around me, the night lived its secret life.
Some fearful sights there be that creep
By night - I mean that harass sleep;
But tenfold more alarming seem these when
They brave the day, to breathe the air like men.
Some nights are made for torture, or reflection, or the savoring of loneliness.
When I finally lie down, I find sleep elusive. The same thoughts that trouble me during the day are only compounded by the stillness of night.
It was morning by the clock but deepest nighttime in his body.
There is a dead spot in the night, that coldest, blackest time when the world has forgotten evening and dawn is not yet a promise. A time when it is far too early to arise, but so late that going to bed makes small sense.
Night is when we are closer to ourselves, closer to essential ideas and feelings that do not register so much during daylight hours.
Night's bewitching hand
Slams the door- in my face and that of sorrow.
No matter how hard I try,
It only mocks me.
All that I designed in daytime,
Night came and smeared with smoke.
All that I imagined at night,
Day came and erased outright.
Dusk
I feel my heart melting
in the mildness like candles:
my veins are slow oil
and not wine,
and I feel my life fleeing
hushed and gentle like the gazelle.
I live a rock-star kind of life where I don't go to bed until 4 A.M. I'm very nocturnal.
Midnight,
strange mystic hour,
when the veil between the frail present and the eternal future grows thin.
There is no sun without shadow, and it is essential to know the night.
Look not into the sun! Even the moon is too bright for your nocturnal eyes!
Night is mine, together with a substantial part of the future.
Everything drops away, comes to be unimportant in the dark. It's like sleep almost. A freedom from self, from ugliness ...
Every night is different, a ball of thread that unrolls differently.
There is a budding morrow in midnight.
Night begins to muffle up the day.
Shadows are little pieces of night that follow us around in the day.
What silence rules the ghostly hours
That guard the close of human sleep!
("The Testimony of the Suns")
The night is Ours. Rejoicing in the ethereal realms where We are kings. Blessed souls of forgotten immortality. They fear Us in every grasp.
Shadows fall on even the brightest hours.
This is the violet hour, the hour of hush and wonder, when the affectations glow and valor is reborn, when the shadows deepen along the edge of the forest and we believe that, if we watch carefully, at any moment we may see the unicorn.
There is nothing like the silence and loneliness of night to bring dark shadows over the brightest mind.
Dreading dusk, fearing night, praying for dawn.
I'm a shadow, and no one remembers shadows. Midnight
I'm a late-night guy.
Night is the other half of life, and the better half.
How beautiful is night! A dewy freshness fills the silent air; No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, Breaks the serene of heaven.
The world is more alive at night; it's like God isn't looking.
All through the long dusk
Nightly awaits that sweet address
Principality of Sleep
Happy Land of Forgetfullness
This is more than an experience in the shadows of sleep.
It was that time of dusk when there is a - deepening of the interior shadows. It is a melancholy time: all you need do is switch on one lamp and the inside and the outside will separate, held apart by the reflections in the glass, and evening will begin.
Night is here. All is at rest. My eyes close in order to see without actually understanding the dream that flees before men infinite space; and I experience the languorous sensation produced by the mournful procession of my hopes.
What heart has not acknowledged the influence of this hour, the sweet and soothing hour of twilight, the hour of love, the hour of adoration, the hour of rest, when we think of those we love only to regret that we have not loved them more dearly, when we remember our enemies only to forgive them.
Night does not show things, it suggests them. It disturbes and surprises us with its strangeness. It liberates forces within us which are dominated by our reason during the daytime.
Nights, sweet as they, Made short by lovers play, Yet long by the absence of the day.
Night Owl: So what are you wearing?
The night is the balm for the wounded souls of the world.
One must use the night.
Night is a stealthy, evil Raven, Wrapt to the eyes in his black wings.
People say the darkness is where secrets are best hidden. Night time brings clarity and focus to owls, even if the aperture of this vision comes with a stigma.
White-flowered shrubs thickened around her and so did sleep; it directed her limbs. Lie down now, sleep said sweetly. Lie down. These are the secret hours of the day, the time that owls and bats take to themselves. The stars change places now; let them. You lie down.
Night breeds its own sort of anticipation.
I often spend half the night with ghosts, remembering times fifty years past as if they were yesterday. The mystery of a midnight visitor is a welcome diversion.
Oh, the luxury of lying in the fern night and the grass night and the night of the susurrant, slumbrous voices weaving the night together.
After each night we are emptier: our mysteries and our griefs have leaked away into our dreams. Thus sleep's labor not only diminishes the power of our thought, but even that of our secrets.
I have the legacy of my father and his nocturnal automatic waking up. But I like those periods. I immediately have a different vision of humanity and my life.
O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, Being in night, all this is but a dream, Too flattering-sweet to be substantial
All the best secrets are told at night.
When we humans learn how to analyze the messages of the nighttime we open ourselves up to manifest our greatest selves.
O mysterious Night! thou art not silent; many tongues halt thou.
It is at night when sleep like the outgoing sea leaves you dry and cold and the morning light arrives like a small punishment.
Night is torment. That is why people go to sleep. To avoid clear sight and torment.
I sat down, turning the pages of my notebook in search of a blank page, in the dim light of my room. The arrival of nightfall had invited leafy shadows to play hide and seek in the glass reflection of the window. I smiled as one of these mischievous shadows crept across the page in a midnight dance.
Press close, bare-bosomed Night!
Press close, magnetic, nourishing Night!
Night of south winds! Night of the large, few stars!
Still, nodding Night! Mad, naked, Summer Night!
Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree.
Oh, night that guided me, Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,Oh, night that joined Beloved with lover, Lover transformed in the Beloved!
Cruel with guilt, and daring with despair, the midnight murderer bursts the faithless bar; invades the sacred hour of silent rest and leaves, unseen, a dagger in your breast.
Neon lights, moonlight, flickering streetlamps, and shadow through the bedroom window blanket us in an ever-changing quilt. Pearl wraps her arms around my middle and lays her head on my chest. I drink from the bottle of whiskey, both uncomfortable and comforted at the same time.
I love my shadow, this dark side of me that had my same restless nature.
Bored with the upsetting realities of the day? Then leave yourself to the calming mysteries of the night!
You, my dear, are a creature of the night, you are a vampire.
Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking, loving and dreaming. At night everything is more intense, more true. The echo of words that have been spoken during the day takes on a new and deeper meaning.
There's something about the darkness that I find unavoidably intoxicating. The knowledge that other people are sleeping and, therefore, unavailable to ruin my solitude, makes me more peaceful than I am during the day.
I despise the morning ... I am a creature of darkness, whose elements is night and shadow.I belong in the dark with the other sinful creatures.
This is the most beautiful night of all, the lightning filled night: day, compared to it, is night.
Dusk is the time when men whisper of matters about which they remain silent in the full light of the sun.
I love the night. I love to feel the tide of darkness rising, slowly and slowly washing, turning over and over, lifting, floating, all that lies strewn upon the dark beach, all that lies hid in rocky hollows.
Night is happening. All the nightmares that have come out when the sun goes down, since the cave times, when we huddled together in fear for safety and for warmth, are happening.
It was the hour in which objects lose the consistency of shadow that accompanies them during the night and gradually reacquire colors, but seem to cross meanwhile an uncertain limbo, faintly touched, just breathed on by light; the hour in which one is least certain of the world's existence.
At night, time becomes a calm sea. It goes on for ever.