Get yourself a notebook and write in it EVERY night for two weeks. Then stop if you can. If you can't, you're a writer.
I make my music at night when there's no noise. . . Just me, my headphones and the silence. But I'm always making music in my head. It's like a non-stop radio!
Consider the fellow. He never spends his time telling you about his previous night's date. You get the idea he has eyes only for you and wouldn't think of looking at another woman.
It was sometime in October; she had long ago lost track of all the days and it really didn’t matter because one was like another and there were no nights to separate them because she never slept any more.
Sometimes you write passages that don't need to be rewritten. Performance is that for me. Improvisation, things that happen in the moment, are sometimes wonderful, or wonderful as a moment to be shared between performer and people, but that's it. There might be a strong bond between you and the people, a transformative night, but as a live record it might not translate.
When I look up into the starry heavens at night and reflect upon what it is I really see there, I am constrained to say, ´there is no god´.
. . . a sad sort of vulnerability was wafting from her, making the night smell like maple syrup.
Im not gay, but the man in my bed last night was.
Reflectors need to be placed on trees every 50 feet so people can hike at night with flashlights.
The only way anyone knows which girl I'm with is if a one-night stand goes on 'Howard Stern. '
Where is the angry machine of all of us? Why is God such a blurred magician? Why are you begging for your life if you believe those things? Prove to me that you’re better than the rabbits we ate last night.
There's another thing that you don't want to take for granted, and that's the reality of there being an audience there each night. It's pretty amazing that that can happen around the world.
Last night, I had a telephone townhall for my constituents back in Vermont, and we had 11,500 people on it. And I had people on Social Security saying if getting fewer benefits will help us on the debt, they're for it. And I had a farmer saying that he's had subsidies for 35 years but we can't afford them anymore.
They were dancing around the fountain, arm in arm, in an old Dutch dance, their cheeks touching, their hands entwined. They had no music; they hummed. And there was no reason for them to be dancing that Peter Lake could see, except that it was an exceptionally beautiful night.
When the world is itself draped in the mantle of night, the mirror of the mind is like the sky in which thoughts twinkle like stars.
I'd be lying if I said it wasn't fun to go to these nights out, like the opening of a film or something, but I dip in and out of it.
We fell in love last night. He's the coolest guy.
once, when I was a young lady and on a night express. . . I was awakened by a man coming in from the corridor and taking hold of my leg. . . Quite as much to my own astonishment as his, I uttered the most appalling growl that ever came out of a tigress. He fled, poor man, without a word: and I lay there, trembling slightly, not at my escape but at my potentialities.
Soup dumplings, sitcoms, one-night stands--good ones leave you wanting more.
As Jack began to climb the stairs, Fiona looked up at her new home. Five stories of stately mansion rose above her head. Heavy molding around the large windows and doors bespoke a quality and craftsmanship that was obvious even in the dim night. “Good God! It’s massive!” Jack paused with his foot on the last step. “I do wish you’d keep those comments until we are in bed, love. I would appreciate them all the more there.
