Winter Moon Quotes

• There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.

  George Carlin

  Funny, Halloween, Night

  George Carlin (2015). “3 x Carlin: An Orgy of George including Brain Droppings, Napalm and Silly Putty, and When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops?”, p.86, Hachette UK

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• The winter moon becomes a companion, the heart of the priest, sunk in meditation upon religion and philosophy, there in the mountain hall, is engaged in a delicate interplay and exchange with the moon; and it is this of which the poet sings.

  Yasunari Kawabata

  Philosophy, Heart, Winter

  "Japan, the Beautiful and Myself". Yasunari Kawabata's Nobel Lecture, www.nobelprize.org. December 12, 1968.

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• Do not think I do not realise what I am doing. I am making a composition using the following elements: the winter beach; the winter moon; the ocean; the women; the pine trees; the riders; the driftwood; the shells; the shapes of darkness and the shapes of water; and the refuse. These are all inimical to my loneliness because of their indifference to it. Out of these pieces of inimical indifference, I intend to represent the desolate smile of winter which, as you must have gathered, is the smile I wear.

  Angela Carter

  Beach, Loneliness, Ocean

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• Lonely as God, and white as a winter moon, Mount Shasta starts up sudden and solitary from the heart of the great black forests of Northern California

  Joaquin Miller

  Lonely, Heart, Winter

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• The best thing would be to break your neck, but you'd probably just break your leg and then you couldn't do a thing. You'd yell at the top of your lungs, but nobody;d hear you, and you couldn't expect anybody to find you, and you'd have centipedes and spiders crawling all over you, and the bones of the ones who died before are scattered all around you, and it's dark and soggy, and way overhead there's this tiny, tiny circle of light like a winter moon. You die there in this place, little by little, all by yourself.

  Haruki Murakami

  Dark, Winter, Moon

  Haruki Murakami (2007). “Vintage Murakami”, p.9, Vintage

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• How can the mind be so imperfect?" she says with a smile. I look at my hands. Bathed in the moonlight, they seem like statues, proportioned to no purpose. "It may well be imperfect," I say, "but it leaves traces. And we can follow those traces, like footsteps in the snow." "Where do the lead?" "To oneself," I answer. "That's where the mind is. Without the mind, nothing leads anywhere." I look up. The winter moon is brilliant, over the Town, above the Wall. "Not one thing is your fault," I comfort her.

  Haruki Murakami

  Wall, Winter, Moon

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