“It is like the keening sound the moon makes sometimes,/rising.”

“The truth like the sun will always rise, and like the moon set for all to see...”

“Just like moons and suns,With certainty of tides,Just like hopes springing high,Still I'll rise.”

“Does sound have rhythm? Does it rise and fall like the ocean? Does sound come and go like wind?”

“Look at the moon. How strange the moon seems! She is like a woman rising from a tomb. She is like a dead woman. One might fancy she was looking for dead things.”

“Alas, wife, what are you saying?''Husband,' said she. 'If I can't order the moon and sun to rise, and have to look on and see the sun and moon rising, I can't bear it. I shall not know what it is to have another happy hour, unless I can make them rise myself.'Then she looked at him so terribly that a shudder ran over him, and said, 'Go at once; I wish to be like unto God.”