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...

Bosch knew the dawn had nothing on the dusk. Dawn always came up ugly, as if the sun was clumsy and in a hurry. The dusk was smoother, the moon more graceful. Maybe it was...

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...

…dusk is the time when men whisper of matters about which they remain silent in the full light of the sun.

The moon went slowly down in loveliness; she departed into the depth of the horizon, and long veil-like shadows crept up the sky through which the stars appeared. Soon, however, they too began to pale...

magic hour” feeling. The air was warm and breezy. The houses looked sparkling with windows reflecting the still bright sun.

People who walk across dark bridges, past saints,with dim, small lights.Clouds which move across gray skiespast churcheswith towers darkened in the dusk.One who leans against granite railinggazing into the evening waters,His hands resting on old...

If you don’t look before the dusk and beyond the dawn, you won’t be able to see the sun. (Soar)

There’s a special quality to the loneliness of dusk, a melancholy more brooding even than the night’s.

Outside, daylight was bleeding slowly toward dusk.

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...

It’s six o’clock; my drink is at the three-quarter mark – three-quarters down not three-quarters up – and the night begins.(“New York Blues”)

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...

It is the quietening of the day that most appeals.

Thought is uncontrollable but controllable. Thought is the pivot of life and the epitome of good or bad living. A controlled thought is a controlled life and an uncontrolled life is an uncontrolled living. Our...

[Hades] returned his attention to the playlist while I eased the car back on the road. His fingers flipped deftly over the screen. ‘Orpheus…Dusk…Orpheus…Dusk…do you have anything on here that doesn’t make people want to...