If you could see the earth illuminated when you were in a place as dark as night, it would look to you more splendid than the moon.

How beautiful is night!
A dewy freshness fills the silent air;
No mist obscures; nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain,
Breaks the serene of heaven:
In full-orbed glory, yonder moon divine
Rolls through the dark blue depths;
Beneath her steady ray
The desert circle spreads
Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky.
How beautiful is night!

It was a marvelous night, the sort of night one only experiences when one is young. The sky was so bright, and there were so many stars that, gazing upward, one couldn't help wondering how so many whimsical, wicked people could live under such a sky.

I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day.

It is not in the bright, happy day, but only in the solemn night, that other worlds are to be seen shining in their long, long distances. And it is in sorrow — the night of the soul — that we see farthest, and know ourselves natives of infinity, and sons and daughters of the Most High.

Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking, loving and dreaming. At night everything is more intense, more true. The echo of words that have been spoken during the day takes on a new and deeper meaning.

At such moments, I don't think about all the misery, but about the beauty that still remains.

Night is certainly more novel and less profane than day.

There is clarity (and joy) in seeing what others can’t see, in finding grace and harmony in places others overlook. Isn’t that far better than seeing the world as some dark place?

The world was beautiful when looked at in this way — without any seeking, so simple, so childlike.

Si tu aimes une fleur qui se trouve dans une étoile, c'est doux, la nuit, de regarder le ciel.

لكنني الآن في هذه الليلة ارى السماء خالية من كل شيء وشعرت براحة لأن السماء لا توحي لي بشيء ــ الحائط