The moon was drenching the sky with loneliness. (p107)

Only the deeper parts of the mind have so little sense of time.

Sometimes, they say, the moon is so busy with the new souls of the world that it disappears from the sky. That is why we have moonless nights. But in the end, the moon always returns, as do we all.

THE Moon is sailing o'er the sky,
But lonely all, as if she pined
For somewhat of companionship,
And felt it was in vain she shined:
Earth is her mirror, and the stars
Are as the court around her throne;
She is a beauty and a queen;
But what is this? she is alone.

Do not swear by the moon, for she changes constantly. then your love would also change.

I started to sink like the moon tends to do if you stare at it too long
Then you blink and it's gone

I know the ugly faces the moon makes when it thinks no one is watching.

"Lunar Paraphrase"

The moon is the mother of pathos and pity.

When, at the wearier end of November,
Her old light moves along the branches,
Feebly, slowly, depending upon them;
When the body of Jesus hangs in a pallor,
Humanly near, and the figure of Mary,
Touched on by hoar-frost, shrinks in a shelter
Made by the leaves, that have rotted and fallen;
When over the houses, a golden illusion
Brings back an earlier season of quiet
And quieting dreams in the sleepers in darkness — The moon is the mother of pathos and pity.

The moon, with midnight now behind us, made the stars seem scarcer to us; it was shaped just like a copper basin, gleaming, new.

I am a cemetery loathed by the moon.

The moon blew up without warning and for no apparent reason. It was waxing, only one day short of full. The time was 05:03:12 UTC. Later it would be designated A+0.0.0, or simply Zero.
An amateur astronomer in Utah was the first person on Earth to realize that something unusual was happening. Moments earlier, he had noticed a blur flourishing in the vicinity of the Reiner Gamma formation, near the moon's equator. He assumed it was a dust cloud thrown up by a meteor strike. He pulled out his phone and blogged the event.

So little time and so little to do.

The moon was gone, but to the magician's eyes the unicorn was the moon, cold and white and very old, lighting his way to safety, or to madness.

The moon is darkened in the sky
As if grief 's shade were passing by;