Sunset Quotes - page 9
Up climb'd the sweet pea,
The butterfly of flowers:-I love it not,
Though every hue-and it has many tints-
Are dyed as if the sunset evening clouds
Had fallen to the earth in sudden rain,
And left their colours : purple, delicate pink,
And snowy white, are on thy wing-like leaves;
But thou art all too forward in thy bloom ;
Thy blossoms are the sun's, and cling to all
That can support them into open day:
And then they die, leaving no root behind,
The hope and promise of another spring;
And no perfume, whose lingering gratitude
Remains round what upheld its summer's life.
Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Night falls. Or has fallen. Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon, like a black sun behind cloud cover. Like smoke from an unseen fire, a line of fire just below the horizon, brushfire or a burning city. Maybe night falls because it's heavy, a thick curtain pulled up over the eyes. Wool blanket.
Margaret Atwood
I feel that most illusionists, magicians and prestidigitators have lost their sense of magic. A movie, a painting, a sunset or a piece of music are sometimes more magical than many 'magic tricks'. Most of our contemporary magicians arouse pity or compassion and don't allow the spectators to dream about other worlds. Magic is not the trick you're doing. Magic is a certain mood, an atmosphere; the absolute beauty of the instant when Man meets the sacred; where the walls of our reality open and, beyond them, infinity appears. The magicians are guides who may, at their will, travel from one universe to another, bringing you with them.
Christian Chelman
At this sunset hour, the canyon walls are indescribably beautiful and I fear the magic of photography can never record what I see now. The tall spires near the canyon's top and the walls of the canyon up there look as if God had reached out and swiped a brush of golden paint across them, gilding these rocks in the bright glow of the setting sun.
Barry Goldwater
It is sometimes said that scientists are unromantic, that their passion to figure out robs the world of beauty and mystery. But is it not stirring to understand how the world actually works - that white light is made of colors, that color is the way we perceive the wavelengths of light, that transparent air reflects light, that in so doing it discriminates among the waves, and that the sky is blue for the same reason that the sunset is red? It does no harm to the romance of the sunset to know a little bit about it.
Carl Sagan
