Dusk Quotes

“Twilight fell: The sky turned to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars.”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

“I love to watch the fine mist of the night come on,
The windows and the stars illumined, one by one,
The rivers of dark smoke pour upward lazily,
And the moon rise and turn them silver. I shall see
The springs, the summers, and the autumns slowly pass;
And when old Winter puts his blank face to the glass,
I shall close all my shutters, pull the curtains tight,
And build me stately palaces by candlelight.”
― Charles Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du Mal

“A sunset is the sun’s fiery kiss to the night.”
― Crystal Woods, Write like no one is reading 3

“The pale stars were sliding into their places. The whispering of the leaves was almost hushed. All about them it was still and shadowy and sweet. It was that wonderful moment when, for lack of a visible horizon, the not yet darkened world seems infinitely greater—a moment when anything can happen, anything be believed in.”
― Olivia Howard Dunbar, The Shell of Sense

“There's a special quality to the loneliness of dusk, a melancholy more brooding even than the night's.”
― Ed Gorman, Everybody's Somebody's Fool

“Trying to attain the inaccessible might be a pure waste of time. Still, however, the blunt attempt to challenge the ultimate hurdles to reach the untouchable can kindle a glow in the dusk and become a lighting beacon of resilience and throw us out of ourselves into an inspiring fairytale of horizons to nurture our dreams.”
― Erik Pevernagie, Stilling our Mind

“There was a filmy veil of soft dull mist obscuring, but not hiding, all objects, giving them a lilac hue, for the sun had not yet fully set; a robin was singing ... The leaves were more gorgeous than ever; the first touch of frost would lay them all low to the ground. Already one or two kept constantly floating down, amber and golden in the low slanting sun-rays.”
― Elizabeth Gaskell, North and South

“Dusk is the time when men whisper of matters about which they remain silent in the full light of the sun.”
― Simon Raven, Doctors Wear Scarlet

“Outside, daylight was bleeding slowly toward dusk.”
― Stephen King, The Running Man

“This is my favorite time of the day. Light and dark touch for a few moments. [...] I used to wish dusk would last longer, but its quickness seems to add to making it special.”
― Regina McBride, The Nature of Water and Air

“As the station wagon pulled back onto the highway, the sun was slowly sinking below the horizon like a leaky boat. Well, except for that fact that boats are not generally round, orange and on fire. Hmm. Come to think of it, in no way whatsoever did the sun, in this instance, resemble a leaky boat. My apologies. That was a dreadful attempt at simile. Please allow me to try again.
As the station wagon pulled back onto the highway, the sun was slowly sinking below the horizon like a self-luminous, gaseous sphere comprised mainly of of hydrogen and helium.”
― Cuthbert Soup, A Whole Nother Story

“Scarcely has night arrived to undeceive, unfurling her wings of crepe (wings drained even of the glimmer just now dying in the tree-tops); scarcely has the last glint still dancing on the burnished metal heights of the tall towers ceased to fade, like a still glowing coal in a spent brazier, which whitens gradually beneath the ashes, and soon is indistinguishable from the abandoned hearth, than a fearful murmur rises amongst them, their teeth chatter with despair and rage, they hasten and scatter in their dread, finding witches everywhere, and ghosts. It is night... and Hell will gape once more.”
― Charles Nodier, Smarra & Trilby

“The afternoon slipped away while we talked -- she talked brightly when any subject came up that interested her -- and it was the last hour of day -- that grave, still hour when the movement of life seems to droop and falter for a few precious minutes -- that brought us the thing I had dreaded silently since my first night in the house.”
― Ellen Glasgow, The Shadowy Third

“Moon in the sky, stars out, the wide-open expanse of nothing: it made him feel free and alive as the daytime never did.”
― Chuck Wendig, Wanderers

“My dog, Willy, died a few years ago, but one of my great memories of him is watching him play in the front yard of our house at dusk. He was a puppy then, and in the early evenings he would contract a case of the zoomies. He ran in delighted circles around us, yipping and jumping at nothing in particular, and then after a while, he'd get tired, and he'd run over to me and lie down. And then he would do something absolutely extraordinary: He would roll over onto his back, and present his soft belly. I always marveled at the courage of that, his ability to be so absolutely vulnerable to us. He offered us the place ribs don't protect, trusting that we weren't going to bite or stab him. It's hard to trust the world like that, to show it your belly. There's something deep within me, something intensely fragile, that is terrified of turning itself to the world. I’m scared to even write this down, because I worry that having confessed this fragility, you know now where to punch. I know that if I’m hit where I am earnest, I will never recover.”
― John Green, The Anthropocene Reviewed: Essays on a Human-Centered Planet

“There was still an hour or two of daylight - even though clouds admitted only a greyish light upon the world, and his Uncle Timothy's house was by nature friendly to gloom.

("Out Of The Deep")”
― Walter de la Mare, Great Tales of Terror and the Supernatural

“I was almost sad when we arrived a the squat, white clubhouse. It was halfway to dark by then, with both a moon and a sun sitting high in a sky that was sugar almond pink and shot with gold. The birds were singing valiantly against the coming night, swooping over the greens in long, drunken loops. The air was grassy, with a hint of flowers and earth, and the warm, sweet outbreath of the day sighed gently into our hair and over our skin. I felt like asking Raymond whether we should keep walking, walk over the rolling greens, keep walking till the birds fell silent in their bowers and we could see only by starlight. It almost felt like he might suggest it himself.”
― Gail Honeyman, Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine

“As the day drains
out the window, I become more and more
the focus of my own gaze.”
― Emily Pittinos

“Dusk, like a painter, gave a certain overpowering tone to the landscape that united all the colors and effaced discord.”
― Margarita Liberaki, Three Summers

“Fate favors no one, and the dusk is taking those it can.”
― Tabitha Harding-Chestney, Ashen Rose

“It was approaching dusk. That time between late afternoon and early evening when most of us are adjusting our lights and clothing, appetites and mindsets, to make the transition from the end of the day to the beginning of the night. A time when both sun and moon can share the sky.”
― Marti Healy, The Rhythm of Selby

“And then somewhere along the shore of a distant Sunset, she tumbled across her soul, and gently Life walked in.”
― Debatrayee Banerjee

“The sun has disappeared, and the light there still is, is left in the atmosphere enclosed by the gloomy mist as pools are left by the receding tide. Through the sand the water slips, and through the mist the light glides away.
(Haunts of the Lapwing: I. Winter)”
― Richard Jefferies, Jefferies' England: Nature Essays by Richard Jefferies

“...the dress clings to my chest and waist, skirt flaring over my hips. The tattered edges give it a haunting elegance, as though I am wrapped in the shadows of dusk. I look the picture of mysterious courtier, rather than someone who sleeps in dirt.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“Suddenly the world began to wither and blacken, rapidly secreting from itself a hallucinatory dusk that infected all things. The plague of dusk expanded venomously and insidiously in all directions, creeping from one thing to another; whatever it touched at once decayed, blackened and disintegrated into rot. People fled from the dusk in silent panic, but the leprosy soon caught up with them, smearing a dark rash across their foreheads. They lost their faces, which fell away in great, shapeless stains, and so they went on, without features, without eyes, dropping mask after mask along the way, until the dusk teemed with those abandoned larvae, scattered behind them.”
― Bruno Schulz, Nocturnal Apparitions: Essential Stories

“I could follow dusk always,
brushing it with stripes and dots
of simple beginnings
for us to share in time.

[Dusk Heart]”
― Susan L. Marshall, Bare Spirit: The Selected Poems of Susan Marshall

“The evening stands silent, listening to the murmurs of the night.”
― Suman Pokhrel

“常记溪亭日暮，沉醉不知归路。兴尽晚回舟，误入藕花深处。争渡，争渡，惊起一滩鸥鹭。”
― 李清照, 李清照诗词全集（作家榜经典文库）

“The sea at dusk. A time of peace.”
― Yukito Ayatsuji, The Decagon House Murders

“As the dead of the night sends evening,
Its weary messenger,
I greet it with a submitting certainty.
The air has a hint of the chill the winter will bring,
And me and the evening both walk
With dead spirits and cold hearts,
Into the dungeons of darkness.”
― Grey RB