A Quote by Mpho Koaho

I come alive at night. I'm such a night owl. — © Mpho Koaho
I come alive at night. I'm such a night owl.
I'm the worst night owl, because I'm a self-loathing night owl who thinks, 'No, I should be getting up early.' It feels unproductive. I must get over that.
I'm a night owl, and luckily my profession supports that. The best ideas come to me in the dead of night.
I used to be a night owl. I no longer am a night owl.
I'm a bit of a night owl because that's when I feel the most creative and alive.
I'm up all night, and then next thing you know, it's the morning, and I'll sleep, like, three hours. I'm a night owl. I'm usually in the studio at night working, and then I get home, I'm on my phone looking at Instagram pictures and buying stuff.
I don't really start writing until later in the night. I'm a night owl.
I'm a bit of a night owl, I'm always visiting the gym throughout the night.
I love filming at night. I'm like a night owl.
I used to think I was a night owl. I realized I'm not, because I have energy at night, but I'm not as focused and productive when I try to get things done.
In the hollow tree, in the old gray tower, The spectral Owl doth dwell; Dull, hated, despised, in the sunshine hour, But at the dusk--he's abroad and well! Not a bird of the forest e'er mates with him-- All mock him outright, by day: But at night, when the woods grow still and dim, The boldest will shrink away! O, when the night falls, and roosts the fowl, Then, then, is the reign of the Horned Owl!
The owl flies, in the moonlight, over a field where the wounded cry out. Like the owl, I fly in the night over my own misfortune.
Ah, it was a fine night, a warm night, a wine-drinking night, a moony night, and a night to hug your girl and talk and spit and be heavengoing.
Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree.
The craving to risk death is our last great perversion. We come from night, we go into night. Why live in night?
Night. Heavenly delicious sweet night of the desert that calls all of us to love her. The night is our comfort with her coolness and darkness. On wings, on feet, on our bellies, out we all come to glory in the night.
Press close, bare-bosomed Night! Press close, magnetic, nourishing Night! Night of south winds! Night of the large, few stars! Still, nodding Night! Mad, naked, Summer Night!
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