The nights were mainly made for saying things you can't say tomorrow day.
Rejoice with glitters of ashes tonightSparkling for moon's spiced silver biteUpon skin of darkness, loving night moreStorm begins unlocking cold wind's door
How I miss wandering around with old souls, Aimlessly moving from one place to anotherHow I miss all our dreams and our goalsAnd how we've lost ourselves to find each otherSeems like a playful game of...
Chilling Tales For Dark Nights, these people or let's say these team is trying to return the fear, the theater... Which so far is great to hear, acting in reading a story and everything one place, jus...
A dream so vibrant,A dream so blissful;I hold it close to my heart.In anxious nights,And days of hope;These years have passed solely.One day the dream to turn true- If only!
On silent moonless nights, I don't feel lonely! I have my greatest friends - my books for company!
The magic fades too fastthe scent of summer never lasts the nights turn hollow and vast but nothing remains...nothing lasts.
He never cried, not even when his alarm went off. Swaddled in his Moses basket, wires trailing out the bottom, his monitor flashing green, green, green, his entire four-pound body motionless except hi...
After counting all the sheep in the worldI enumerate the wildebeests, snails,camels, skylarks, etc.,then I add up all the zoos and aquariums,country by country.By early light I am asleepin a nightmare...
Most of the days, I am gripped by these visions,Memories! that haunt my present,What is it, That Separates me from You ?What is it, That can bring me close ?All through the night, i seek such things,A...
Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights;Four nights will quickly dream away the time.
the nights would be orphaned without the sound of crickets chirping.
I wake up in strange beds and in unknown rooms. I wander in dark alleys and crooked roads. Some days I don't even see the sun. Some nights the moon hides from me. I am the wanderer and wandering is my...
We have conversations most nights, Sylvia Plath and me. On these cold wintry nights with our coffee mugs in hand, we talk for hours and hours, Sylvia Plath and me!
In the beauty of the mornings we forget about the night; in the beauty of the night we forget about the mornings! When you meet the beauty, you drop anchor in the present time and all other times disa...
The nights now are full of wind and destruction; the trees plunge and bend and their leaves fly helter skelter until the lawn is plastered with them and they lie packed in gutters and choke rain pipes...
People observe the colors of a day at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quiet clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment.