“Some nights stay up till dawn, as the moon sometimes does for the sun. Be a full bucket pulled up the dark way of a well, then lifted out into light.”

“I had expected the well to be full for some reason.Not that it had ever been before.I kept looking for signs of water in the dark insides.I heard my bucket clank as it hitAgainst the walls that held nothing.I look at the bucket that came up emptyAnd made a decision that changed my life.I will keep my bucket and find another well.”

“I always think of it like this: Rather than be the sun to someone and light up everything around them, I want to be the moon and light the way just a little in front of them when they are lost or uncertain in the darkness, and always be there with them when they look up. That’s my way of living.”

“Night falls. Or has fallen. Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon, like a black sun behind cloud cover. Like smoke from an unseen fire, a line of fire just below the horizon, brushfire or a burning city. Maybe night falls because it’s heavy, a thick curtain pulled up over the eyes. Wool blanket.”

“Outside everything was uncannily visible in the light of the full moon, but here in the dark shaded alleys the night was conscious of itself. ("The Moon Slave")”

“On this night I had searched for them without success, fearing to find them; they were nowhere in the house, nor about the moonlit dawn. For, although the sun is lost to us for ever, the moon, full-orbed or slender, remains to us. Sometimes it shines by night, sometimes by day, but always it rises and sets, as in that other life.”