Quotessence
Home / Topics / Moonlight Quotes

Moonlight Quotes

Browse 421 quotes about Moonlight.

Related topics

Moonlight Quotes

“The missions were always changing- sometimes collecting jars of rain, paper bags of hiccups, adopting lost moonbeams and folding them into cake batter. Or perhaps investigating glittering slug trails left in the moonlight, finding the owners of abandoned buttons, or playing the sousaphone for caterpillars still in their cocoons.”

“It’s the beating of my heart. The way I lie awake, playing with shadows slowly climbing up my wall. The gentle moonlight slipping through my window and the sound of a lonely car somewhere far away, where I long to be too, I think. It’s the way I thought my restless wandering was over, that I’d found whatever I thought I had found, or wanted, or needed, and I started to collect my belongings. Build a home. Safe behind the comfort of these four walls and a closed door. Because as much as I tried or pretended or imagined myself as a part of all the people out there, I was still the one locking the door every night. Turning off the phone and blowing out the candles so no one knew I was home. ’cause I was never really well around the expectations of my personality and I wanted to keep to myself. and because I haven’t been very impressed lately. By people, or places. Or the way someone said he loved me and then slowly changed his mind.”

“I cherish the moonlight, a soft, silver glow, painting the night with a luminous flow. It whispers of secrets in shadows that sway, guiding lost wanderers who’ve drifted away. The rainstorms arrive with a passionate cry, a symphony pouring from the vast, stormy sky. Each drop is a heartbeat, each flash is a spark, igniting the soul in the depths of the dark. I revel in moments that breathe with a pulse, in laughter and longing, in silence and impulse. From the rustle of leaves to the songs of the sea, so many things hold a spirit in me. Enchanted by dolphins, in oceans so grand, their playful leaps echo the joy of the land. They dance with the waves, in a shimmering play, whispering tales of the deep, where the heart longs to stay. The warmth of the sun on a crips summer day, the dance of the fireflies that flicker and sway. In the essence of life, where the wild things roam, I find the deep beauty that calls me back home. In the hush of the tide, where the mysteries dwell, I’m wrapped in the magic that words cannot tell. From moonlit reflections to the ocean's embrace, I love all the wonders that fill this vast space...”

“Walking under Dusk, Moonlit leaf shadows were cast on my skin from the trees above, every step I took was taking a step deeper into magic. Silent whispers of mystical mouthes pulling me in deeper. Then the lights from inside the house turned on. A few seconds later, the fence lights went on. Just like that, the leafy ghosts on my skin ran away and the faery voices ran home. It seems like the creations of man kill magic in so many ways— even the light bulb does this! Oh to be a race of people designing magical things, if someone could capture pieces of Moonlight and place it in a jar; or other things like that, then we could stop killing the magic and be filled with it instead. Or maybe we are already always filled with it. It's the bringing out that we have trouble with. Stop being a doorknob, darling! Be magical, instead!”

“Basil Ransom had got up just as Mrs. Luna made this last declaration; for a young lady had glided into the room, who stopped short as it fell upon her ears. She stood there looking, consciously and rather seriously, at Mr. Ransom; a smile of exceeding faintness played about her lips--it was just perceptible enough to light up the native gravity of her face. It might have been likened to a thin ray of moonlight resting upon the wall of a prison.”

“I went outside. The rain had stopped. The air, washed by the rain, was serene, and the waves sounded closer than usual. The full moon shone like a pearl in the night sky. The moonlight made it look as if all the houses had sunk to the bottom of a lake. The road stretched ahead, white. It was the road that led to Migitahama. A gust of wind and the petals from a wild cherry tree went dancing, white against the darkness, and I remembered then that the cherry trees here blossomed two or three weeks later than in Tokyo. The waves roared. I stood alone in the darkness. Light does not illuminate. It only looks for things to illuminate. And I had never been found by the light. I would always be in darkness—”