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night

“Two-thirty in the morning was kind of a bitch as times went. It fell into the in-between, nowhere land. Too late to get a really good night s sleep, but much too early to start the day.”

— Kylie Scott, Lead, Share via Whatsapp

“What s done at night belongs to the night. In the daytime you don t talk about it.”

— Jean-Paul Sartre, The Respectable Prostitute/Lucifer and the Lord/In Camera, Share via Whatsapp

“Time did exist here, in small amounts (well some of the time) – and there were feint eddies and currents of time here, things that were barely tangible. Feint forces of the universe they were, nearly indiscernible from the nothingness like a warm breeze on a hot summer night. How long he had been here, he knew not – but he was slowly learning to master these barely tangible waves like a new surfer with one foot on the sandy beach and the other on a shiny new board of Hatred. Revenge splashed around his feet like the cold waves of the ocean of Time. Nearby, two other inmates collided with each other, bounced apart spread-eagled and spiraled off into the distance in infinite slowness. The Wetsuit of Insanity clung to his spiritual body, isolating him from the timelessness that seemed to exist here. A wind of Change blew at him from behind and he pushed off from the beach with iron determination and a mental clarity hereto before unknown to him. Something in the microcosm that didn’t even have a name went ‘bling’ and against all the laws of probability, Brad Xyl opened his eyes.”

— Christina Engela, The Time Saving Agency, Share via Whatsapp

“I wish I had a brush that could paint the whole sky and turn every morning into night. I wish I could always sleep next to you in the never ending night and hold your hand, watching the reflection of all the stars in your eyes, while you smile and watch them in the sky with wonder.”

— Akshay Vasu, Share via Whatsapp

“It was easy to conclude: The night was young and alive, in its ever so subtle way.”

— Lauren Lola, An Absolute Mind, Share via Whatsapp

“When something hurts them, they weep. By night, they rest, they sleep”

— Christina Engela, Other Kids Are Kids Almost Just Like You, Share via Whatsapp

“I gave them everything I had, and I guess it feels alright. I gave them my body, and they use it every night.”

— Kris Kidd, Down for Whatever, Share via Whatsapp

“Rape, cockroaches... are still a real nightmare.”

— Deyth Banger, Share via Whatsapp

“La luna si levò sopra la prateria e sembrava succhiare via tutti i colori dal paesaggio circostante; adesso tutto appariva diverso. I cespugli lungo il letto asciutto non erano verdi ma neri e avevano un che di minaccioso.”

— David Eddings, Crystal Gorge, Share via Whatsapp

“Woodget glanced into the dim shadows behind the trees. What you be hiding fer? he called. On such a night as this even the greatest may hide and not be ashamed, came the response.”

— Robin Jarvis, Thomas, Share via Whatsapp

“Night was come, and her planets were risen: a safe, still night: too serene for the companionship of fear. We know that God is everywhere; but certainly we feel His presence most when His works are on the grandest scale spread before us; and it is in the unclouded night-sky, where His worlds wheel their silent course, that we read clearest His infinitude, His omnipotence, His omnipresence.”

— Charlotte Brontë, Share via Whatsapp

“Night is night.”

— Lailah Gifty Akita, Share via Whatsapp

“He watched him stoke the flames, God s own firedrake. The sparks rushed upward and died in the starless dark. Not all dying words are true and this blessing is no less real for being shorn of its ground.”

— Cormac McCarthy, Share via Whatsapp

“Rubbing noses with me, she laughed, and I swear the Elysian night sang with the sound of it.”

— Jovee Winters, Share via Whatsapp

“The lamp hummed: Regard the moon, La lune ne garde aucune rancune, She winks a feeble eye, She smiles into corners. She smoothes the hair of the grass. The moon has lost her memory. A washed-out smallpox cracks her face, Her hand twists a paper rose, That smells of dust and old Cologne, She is alone With all the old nocturnal smells That cross and cross across her brain. The reminiscence comes Of sunless dry geraniums And dust in crevices, Smells of chestnuts in the streets, And female smells in shuttered rooms, And cigarettes in corridors And cocktail smells in bars.”

— T.S. Eliot, Share via Whatsapp

“All the best secrets are told at night.”

— Mark Lawrence, Prince of Fools, Share via Whatsapp

“With night s Dim veil and blue I will cover my eyes, I will bind close my eyes that are So weary.”

— Adelaide Crapsey, Verse by Adelaide Crapsey, Share via Whatsapp