The night is a skin pulled over the head of day that the day may be in torment.
I cannot walk through the suburbs in the solitude of the night without thinking that the night pleases us because it suppresses idle details, just as our memory does.
Shadow owes its birth to light.
Night is the mother of counsels.
Night's deepest gloom is but a calm; that soothes the weary mind: The labored days restoring balm; the comfort of mankind.
Whoever thinks of going to bed before twelve o clock is a scoundrel.
And the night shall be filled with music, and the cares, that infest the day, shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, and as silently steal away.
Blemishes are hid by night and every fault forgiven; darkness makes any woman fair.
— Ovid
Shadows fall on even the brightest hours.
Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree.
Night brings our troubles to the light, rather than banishes them.
— Seneca
O comfort-killing night, image of hell, dim register and notary of shame, black stage for tragedies and murders fell, vast sin-concealing chaos, nurse of blame!
Thank Heaven, the sun has gone in, and I don't have to go out and enjoy it.
Night is a dead monotonous period under a roof; but in the open world it passes lightly, with its stars and dews and perfumes, and the hours are marked by changes in the face of Nature. What seems a kind of temporal death to people choked between walls and curtains, is only a light and living slumber to the man who sleeps afield.
Beware thoughts that come in the night. They aren't turned properly; they come in askew, free of sense and restriction, deriving from the most remote of sources.
Press close bare-bosomed night -- press close magnetic nourishing night! Night of south winds! night of the large few stars! Still nodding night! mad naked summer night.