The moon develops the imagination, as chemicals develop photographic images.
That orbed maiden, with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon.
The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.
We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature - trees, flowers, grass- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We need silence to be able to touch souls.
...the moon that hung over the garden like some great priceless pearl, flawed and blemished with grey shadowy ridges as only a very great beauty can risk being.
When a wise man points at the moon the imbecile examines the finger.
Under your skin the moon is alive.
The day, water, sun, moon, night - I do not have to purchase these things with money.
Yeah we all shine on, like the moon, and the stars, and the sun.
I like to think the moon is there even if I am not looking at it.
See yonder fire! It is the moon slow rising o'er the eastern hill. It glimmers on the forest tips, and through the dewy foliage drips In little rivulets of light, and makes the heart in love with night.
The moon does not think to be reflected, nor does the water think to reflect, in the Hirosawa Pond.
The moon shines for you.
I stood face to face with the moon and the ocean and the future that spread out with all its bewildering immensity before me.
The moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun.
Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.
Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.
Your thoughts are a veil on the face of the Moon. That Moon is your heart, and those thoughts cover your heart. So let them go, just let them fall into the water.
You are the root of heaven, the morning star, the bright moon, the house of endless Love
At night, I open the window and ask the moon to come and press its face against mine. Breathe into me. Close the language-door and open the love-window. The moon won't use the door, only the window.
What can we gain by sailing to the moon if we cannot cross the abyss that separates us from ourselves?
The final mystery is oneself. When one has weighed the sun in the balance, and measured the steps of the moon, and mapped out the seven heavens star by star, there still remains oneself. Who can calculate the orbit of his own soul?
You are immortal; you exist for billions of years in different manifestations, because you are Life, and Life cannot die. You are in the trees, the butterflies, the fish, the air, the moon, the sun. Wherever you go, you are there, waiting for yourself.
They say true love only comes around once and you have to hold out and be strong until then. I have been waiting. I have been searching. I am a man under the moon, walking the streets of earth until dawn. There's got to be someone for me. It's not too much to ask. Just someone to be with. Someone to love. Someone to give everything to. Someone.
Not secondary to the sun, she gives us his blaze again, Void of its flame, and sheds a softer day... In Heaven queen she is among the spheres; She, mistress-like, makes all things to be pure.
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