It was late one winter night, long past my bedtime, when Pa and I went owling. There was no wind. The trees stood still as giant statues. And the moon was so bright the sky seemed to shine.
Night Triumphant – and the Stars Eternal.
There is a time for many words, and there is also a time for sleep.
Goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere.
Don’t fight with the pillow, but lay down your head and kick every worriment out of the bed.
I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars.
Llama llama red pajama gets two kissed from his mama, snuggles pillow soft and deep...
It was the possibility of darkness that made the day seem so bright.
It is one of life’s bitterest truths that bedtime so often arrives just when things are really getting interesting.
I buried my head under the darkness of the pillow and pretended it was night. I couldn't see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.
Melancholy were the sounds on a winter's night.
Do not go gentle into that good night but rage, rage against the dying of the light.