Quotes
Quotes about Moon
The church says that the Earth is flat, but I have seen the shadow on the moon and I have more faith in the shadow than in the church.
I don't know if there are men on the moon, but if there are they must be using the earth as their lunatic asylum.
The fasts are done; the Aves said; The moon has filled her horn And in the solemn night I watch Before the Easter morn. So pure, so still the starry heaven, So hushed the brooding air, I could hear the sweep of an angel's wings If one should earthward fare.
The essence of intelligence is skill in extracting meaning from everyday experience. Sir Walter Scott We shall never learn to feel and respect our real calling and destiny, unless we have taught ourselves to consider every thing as moonshine, compared with the education of the heart. -Unknown.
The energy produced by the breaking down of the atom is a very poor kind of thing. Anyone who expects a source of power from the transformation of these atoms is talking moonshine.
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou her maid art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off.
Since your legs, Phoebus, resemble the horns of the moon, you might bathe your feet in a cornucopia.
And whiter grows the foam, The small moon lightens more; And as I turn me home, My shadow walks before.
It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard; It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whispered word; And gentle winds, and waters near, Make music to the lonely ear. Each flower the dews have lightly wet, And in the sky the stars are met, And on the wave is deeper blue, And on the leaf a browner hue, And in the heaven that clear obscure, So softly dark, and darkly pure. Which follows the decline of day, As twilight melts beneath the moon away.
One by one the flowers close, Lily and dewy rose Shutting their tender petals from the moon.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks: The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Moans round with many voices.
I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus With tigery stripes, and a face on it Round as the moon, to stare up. I want to be looking at them when they come Picking among the dumb minerals, the roots. I see them already-the pale, star-distance faces. Now they are nothing, they are not even babies. I imagine them without fathers or mothers, like the first gods. They will wonder if I was important.
There ain't no such thing as a free lunch." A Libertarian Movement slogan - The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress, 1907.
When fishes flew and forests walked And figs grew upon thorn, Some moment when the moon was blood Then surely I was born. With monstrous head and sickening cry And ears like errant wings, The devil's walking parody On all four-footed things.
England! Whence came each glowing hue That hints your flag of meteor light,-- The streaming red, the deeper blue, Crossed with the moonbeams' pearly white? The blood, the bruise--the blue, the red-- Let Asia's groaning millions speak; The white it tells of colour fled From starving Erin's pallid cheek.
This is the excellent foppery of the world, that when we are sick in fortune, often the surfeits of our own behavior, we make guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and stars; as if we were villains on necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion; knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance; drunkards, liars, and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on. An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition on the charge of a star.
Krishna was conceived in the womb of Devaki mysteriously as the sun setting in the West imparts his rays to the rising moon in the East.
I am tired and sick of war. Its glory is all moonshine . . . . War is hell.
They said they were anhungry; sighed forth proverbs-- That hunger broke stone walls, that dogs must eat, That meat was made for mouths, that the gods sent not Corn for the rich men only. With these shreds They vented their complainings, which being answered And a petition granted them, a strange one, To break the heart of generosity, And make bold power look pale, they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o' th' moon, Shouting their emulation.
Silent icicles, Quietly shining to the quiet moon.
For 'tis the sport to have the enginer Hoist with his own petar, and 't shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines And blow them at the moon.
What care if the day Be turned to gray, What care if the night come soon! We may choose the pace Who bow for grace, At the Inn of the Silver Moon.
Sentimental irony is a dog that bays at the moon while pissing on graves.
Do you recall that night in June Upon the Danube River; We listened to the landler-tune, We watched the moonbeams quiver.
Language exerts hidden power, like the moon on the tides.
