Quotes
Quotes about Night
The bird That glads the night had cheer'd the listening groves with sweet complainings.
Sometimes I lie awake at night and ask why me? Then a voice answers nothing personal, your name just happened to come up.
Many brave men lived before Agamemnon; but, all unwept and unknown, are lost in the distant night, since they are without a divine poet (to chronicle their deeds). [Lat., Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona Multi; sed omnes illacrimabiles Urguentur ignotique sacro.]
A true knight is fuller of bravery in the midst, than in the beginning of danger.
A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Anyone can carry his burden, however heavy, until nightfall. Anyone can do his work, however hard, for one day. Anyone can live sweetly, patiently, lovingly, purely, until the sun goes down. And this is all that life really means.
A Yale University management professor in response to student Fred Smith's paper proposing reliable overnight delivery service: The concept is interesting and well-formed, but in order to earn better than a 'C', the idea must be feasible.
Confound the cats! All cats--alway-- Cats of all colours, black, white, grey; By night a nuisance and by day-- Confound the cats!
Whose foot is on the treadle/That turns the burning stars/Has spun the world half way round/Since last I called/Come down, come down. That stars that in September/Looked through the mournful rain/Now set their sight again/Upon a world half night, half light Men of distant years have said/That much depends on change of seasons/On solstices and equinox/And they have given reasons. I disagree./Too much turns on inadvertence/On what seems to be/An accident of hand and knee/A chance sunrise/A glance of eyes.
Knight without fear and without reproach. [Fr., Chevalier sans peur et sans reproche.]
When the lessons and tasks are all ended, And the school for the day is dismissed, The little one gather around me, To bid me good-night and be kissed; On, the little white arms that encircle My neck in their tender embrace Oh, the smiles that are halos of heaven, Shedding sunshine of love on my face.
Wynken, Blynken and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe-- Sailed on a river of crystal light Into a sea of dew.
Lovely was the death Of Him whose life was Love! Holy with power, He on the thought-benighted Skeptic beamed Manifest Godhead.
Yes,--rather plunge me back in pagan night, And take my chance with Socrates for bliss, Than be the Christian of a faith like this, Which builds on heavenly cant its earthly sway, And in a convert mourns to lose a prey.
Feast of Aidan, Bishop of Lindisfarne, Missionary, 651 Commemoration of Cuthburga, Founding Abbess of Wimborne, c.725 Commemoration of John Bunyan, Spiritual Writer, 1688 [John Bunyan] had to live through that obscure nightâ"wide, vast, and lonely"âwhich fell upon St. John of the Cross before; like him, he knew that grace would enter "the dark caverns where the senses live". In the meantime, Bunyan tossed to and fro, as it were between heaven and hell. It has been said that he paints too dark a picture of his moral condition when a young man, that he exaggerates his wickedness at this period, and afterwards wrestles with phantoms of his vivid imagination. But spiritual sins, though not so obvious as those that are sensual, may be just as real; and Bunyan's intensity of feeling and expression arose from the intensity of his spiritual nature.
Commemoration of Jack Winslow, Missionary, Evangelist, 1974 My God, how endless is Thy love! Thy gifts are every evening new, And morning mercies from above Gently distill like early dew. Thou spread'st the curtains of the night, Great guardian of my sleeping hours; Thy sov'reign word restores the light, And quickens all my drowsy powers. I yield my powers to Thy command, To Thee I consecrate my days; Perpetual blessings from Thine hand Demand perpetual songs of praise.
Easter Feast of George, Martyr, Patron of England, c.304 Commemoration of Michael Ramsey, Archbishop of Canterbury, Teacher, 1988 I greet Thy sepulchre, salute Thy grave, That blest enclosure, where the angels gave The first glad tidings of Thy early light, And resurrection from the earth and night. I see that morning in Thy convert's tears, Fresh as the dew, which but this downing wears. I smell her spices; and her ointment yields As rich a scent as the now primrosed fields: The Day-star smiles, and light, with Thee deceased, Now shines in all the chambers of the East.
The Divine Perfections. How shall I praise th' eternal God, That Infinite Unknown? Who can ascend his high abode, Or venture near his throne? The great invisible! He dwells Conceal'd in dazzling light: But his all-searching eye reveals The secrets of the night. Those watchful eyes that never sleep, Survey the world around; His wisdom is the boundless deep, Where all our thoughts are drown'd. He knows no shadow of a change, Nor alters his decrees; Firm as a rock his truth remains, To guard his promises. Justice, upon a dreadful throne, Maintains the rights of God; While mercy sends her pardons down, Bought with a Saviour's blood. Now to my soul immortal King, Speak some forgiving word; Then `twill be double joy to sing The glories of my Lord.
Welcome! all Wonders in one sight! Eternity shut in a span. Summer in winter, day in night, Heaven in earth, and God in man. Great little one! whose all-embracing birth Lifts earth to heaven, stoops heav'n to earth!
Like summer seas that lave with silent tides a lonely shore, like whispering winds that stir the tops of forest trees, like a still, small voice that calls us in the watches of the night, like a child's hand that feels about a fast-closed door; gentle, unnoticed, and oft in vain: so is Thy coming unto us, O God. Like ships storm-driven into port, like starving souls that seek the bread they once despised, like wanderers begging refuge from the whelming night, like prodigals that seek the father's home when all is spent; yet welcomed at the open door, arms outstretched and kisses for our shame; so is our coming unto Thee, 0 God. Like flowers uplifted to the sun, like trees that bend before the storm, like sleeping seas that mirror cloudless skies, like a harp to the hand, like an echo to a cry, like a song to the heart; for all our stubbornness, our failure, and our sin: so would we have been to Thee, O God.
Feast of Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, 988 I suddenly saw that all the time it was not I who had been seeking God, but God who had been seeking me. I had made myself the centre of my own existence and had my back turned to God. All the beauty and truth which I had discovered had come to me as a reflection of his beauty, but I had kept my eyes fixed on the reflection and was always looking at myself. But God had brought me to the point at which I was compelled to turn away from the reflection, both of myself and of the world which could only mirror my own image. During that night the mirror had been broken, and I had felt abandoned because I could no longer gaze upon the image of my own reason and the finite world which it knew. God had brought me to my knees and made me acknowledge my own nothingness, and out of that knowledge I had been reborn. I was no longer the centre of my life and therefore I could see God in everything.
PSALM 126 The Lord can clear the darkest skies Can give us day for night. Make drops of sacred sorrow rise To rivers of delight.
Feast of Paulinus, Bishop of York, Missionary, 644 God is especially present in the hearts of His people, by His Holy Spirit; and indeed the hearts of holy men are temples in the truth of things, and in type and shadow they are heaven itself. For God reigns in the hearts of His servants; there is His Kingdom. The power of grace hath subdued all His enemies; there is His power. They serve Him night and day, and give Him thanks and praise; that is His glory. This is the religion and worship of God in the temple. [Continued tomorrow] ...Jeremy Taylor, Holy Living October 11, 1997 Commemoration of Ethelburga, Abbess of Barking, 675 The temple itself is the heart of man, Christ is the high priest, who from thence sends up the incense of prayers, and joins them to His own intercession and presents all together to His Father; and the Holy Ghost by His dwelling there hath also consecrated it into a temple; and God dwells in our hearts by faith, and Christ by His Spirit, and the spirit by His purities: so that we are also cabinets of the mysterious Trinity, and what is this short of heaven itself, but as infancy is short of manhood?... The same state of life it is, but not the same age. It is heaven in a looking glass, dark but yet true, representing the beauties of the soul, and the grace of God, and the images of His eternal glory, by the reality of a special presence. ...Jeremy Taylor, Holy Living October 12, 1997 Commemoration of Wilfrid, Abbot of Ripon, Bishop of York, Missionary, 709 Commemoration of Elizabeth Fry, Prison Reformer, 1845 If God reveal anything to you by any other instrument of His, be as ready to receive it as ever you were to receive any truth by my ministry: for I am verily persuaded, the Lord has more truth yet to break forth out of His holy Word.
Feast of Edward the Confessor, 1066 When night comes, list thy deeds; make plain the way 'Twixt heaven and thee; block it not with delays; But perfect all before thou sleep'st: then say: There's one sun more strung on my Bead of days. What's good, score up for joy; the bad, well scanned. Wash off with tears, and get thy Master's hand.
Palm Sunday I had no God but these, The sacerdotal trees, And they uplifted me, "I hung upon a Tree." The sun and moon I saw, And reverential awe Subdued me day and night, "I am the perfect light." Within a lifeless stoneâAll other gods unknownâI sought Divinity, "The Corner-stone am I." For sacrificial feast I slaughtered man and beast, Red recompense to gain. "So I a Lamb was slain." "Yea, such My hungering Grace That whereso'er My face Is hidden, none may grope Beyond eternal Hope.".
