A Quote by Vincent Van Gogh
The lamps are burning and the starry sky is over it all.
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I love nature, I really do. I love the great outdoors, I love the concept of quiet, peaceful solitude shared only with the loons calling to each other across the water, and Bambi and Thumper in the forest, and a simple tent between me and the starry, starry sky.
At present I absolutely want to paint a starry sky. It often seems to me that night is still more richly coloured than the day; having hues of the most intense violets, blues and greens. If only you pay attention to it you will see that certain stars are lemon-yellow, others pink or a green, blue and forget-me-not brilliance. And without my expatiating on this theme it is obvious that putting little white dots on the blue-black is not enough to paint a starry sky.
Our hearts are lamps for ever burning.
It takes oil to keep the lamps burning.
Books are the ever burning lamps of accumulated wisdom.
Evil is the starry sky of the Good.
And one cold starry night / Whatever your belief / The phoenix will take flight / Over the seas of grief / To sing her thrilling song / To stars and waves and sky / For neither old nor young / The phoenix does not die.
The silence that is in the starry sky, / The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
Him who trembles before the flame and the flood,
And the winds that blow through the starry ways,
Let the starry winds and the flame and the flood
Cover over and hide, for he has no part
With the lonely, majestical multitude.
When we look up into the starry night sky, we tend to see reflections of ourselves.
The sound of the freezing of snow over the land seemed to roar deep into the earth. There was no moon. The stars, almost too many of them to be true, came forward so brightly that it was as if they were falling with the swiftness of the void. As the stars came nearer, the sky retreated deeper and deeper into the night color. The layers of the Border Range, indistinguishable one from another, cast their heaviness at the skirt of the starry sky in a blackness grave and somber enough to communicate their mass. The whole of the night scene came together in a clear, tranquil harmony.
The mind should turn into a serene and stormless lake, where is reflected the complete panorama of the starry sky.
It was a clear, starry night, dead calm. Whenever I see a sky like that, I wish I could write music
Take no revenge that you have not pondered beneath a starry sky, or on a canyon overlook, or to the lapping of waves and the mewing of a distant gull.
Towards midnight the rain ceased and the clouds drifted away, so that the sky was scattered once more with the incredible lamps of stars.
The stars drew light across the night sky in that little mountain village, and the silence and the cold made the darkness vanish away. It was - I don't know how to explain it - as if everything solid melted away into the ether, eliminating all individualtiy and absorbing us, rigid, into the immense darkness. Not a single cloud to lend perspective to the space blocked any portion of the starry sky.
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