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  • The sun seemed to pour down a lavish, golden, invulnerable contentment on everything, on people, houses, animals, fields — and a sweetness like the sweetness of passion.

  • The sun was rising. Very slowly it came up over the horizon shaking out light. But the sky was so vast, so cloudless, that to fill it with light took time.

  • That leap up of the sun is as glad as a child's laugh; it is as a renewal of the world's youth.

  • The sun was shining like a congratulation.

  • Plenty of sunshine is the very wine of life.

  • The sunshine had the density of gold-leaf: we seemed to be driving through the landscape of a missal.

  • The sun was like a word written between the sea and the sky, a word that was swallowed up by the sea before any man had time to read it.

  • I am sad for people who do not like to be in the sun. It's a free intoxicant.

  • The pale, cold light of the winter sunset did not beautify — it was like the light of truth itself.

  • The sun lay like a friendly arm across her square shoulders.

  • In the woods where snow is thick, bars of sunlight lay like pale fire.

  • Sad soul, take comfort, nor forget / that sunrise never failed us yet!

  • I know two things in this world that never, never tire me and always rest me — I wonder if they always will? One is a sunset, and the other is an open wood fire.

  • See in the east, the illustrious king of day! / His rising radiance drives the shades away ...

    • Phillis Wheatley,
    • "Hymn to Morning" (1773), Memoir and Poems of Phillis Wheatley ()
  • Through all the heavens what beauteous dyes are spread, / But the west glories in the deepest red ...

    • Phillis Wheatley,
    • "Hymn to Evening" (1773), Memoir and Poems of Phillis Wheatley ()
  • In the evening sunset / There's nothing I regret.

  • Each night the sunset surged with purple pampas-grass plumes, and shot fuchsia rockets into the pink sky, then deepened through folded layers of peacock green to all the blues of India and a black across which clouds sometimes churned like alabaster dolls. The visual opium of the sunset was what I craved.

  • Up came the sun, and drank the dew.

  • The sun rises at midnight.

  • The sun, God's own great shadow, stood straight overhead, casting down spots of warm light on her.

  • The sun pours out like wine.

  • Faithful to custom, I watched the sun set on my first day in Rome from the Pincio terrace in the Villa Borghese. ... I hadn't known until then that the sun saves all the leftover gold from the day to pour over Rome.

  • The sun beating in on me gives my mind a dry feeling. I feel like dust.

  • So sudden and abrupt was the sunrise that the birds had to pretend they had been awake all the time.

  • ... the sun is as dispassionate as the hand of a man who greets you with his mind on other things.

  • The sun burnt on, drugging everything with warmth.

  • Thunder moaned low in the southwest, as out of the heart of some forlorn, purple sea whose tided agony, creeping forward, creeping and spreading, struck at last with a coil of livid foam upon the last headland spur of sunset.

  • The sun cast no rays, scarcely colored the sky around it, simply hung there on the earth's rim like the burning heart of creation.

  • Across the lake now, beyond the squat turtleback of Spite Island, rose the sun, a vast, wet, ominious ruby.

  • [On a sunset:] I cannot speak or move. I am drunk with beauty!

    • Marianne North,
    • in Lady Margaret Brooke, Good Morning and Good Night ()
  • The sky broke like an egg into full sunset and the water caught fire.

  • Sun spills over the mountains like gold from a miner's pan.

  • The most beautiful thing under the sun is being under the sun.

  • I'll tell you how the sun rose,-- / a ribbon at a time.

    • Emily Dickinson,
    • in Mabel Loomis Todd and Thomas Wentworth Higginson, eds., Poems, 1st series ()
  • The sunset has passed through every stage of beauty, through every glory of color, through riot and triumph, through pathos and tenderness, into a long, dreamy, painless rest, succeeded by the profound solemnity of the moonlight, and a stillness broken only by the night cries of beasts in the aromatic forests.

  • Sundays are terrible because it is clear that there is no one in charge of the world. And this knowledge leave you drifting around, grappling with unfulfilled expectations and vague yearnings.

  • Since her childhood it had seemed to her that the movement of all laws, even natural ones, was either suspended or accelerated on the Sabbath.

  • If you've ever had any grief it always comes back on a Sunday.

  • Sunday is sort of like a piece of bright gold brocade lying in a pile of white muslin weekdays.

  • ... Sunday afternoons are the longest afternoons of all ...

  • Nothing is so musical as the sound of pouring bourbon for the first drink on a Sunday morning. Not Bach or Schubert or any of those masters.

  • The feeling of Sunday is the same everywhere, heavy, melancholy, standing still. Like when they say, 'As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.'

  • In the country Sunday is the day on which you do exactly as much work as you do on other days but feel guilty all the time you are doing it because Sunday is a day of rest.

  • This is Sunday, the deadliest of days for prisoners and solitaries.

  • I've always hated Sundays, always had to fight the gray gloom that comes over me on Sunday afternoons. ... when I die it will be on a Sunday afternoon around four o'clock.

  • I’m having a hard time writing about Sunday. Getting the long hollow feeling of Sundays. No mail and faraway lawn mowers, the hopelessness.