Go to the moon, that’s my dream.
It was here we turned the coffee cups upside down. And your eyes and the moon swept the valley.
In the night the cabbages catch at the moon, the leaves drip silver, the rows of cabbages are a series of little silver waterfalls in the moon.
Under the harvest moon, <br>When the soft silver <br>Drips shimmering <br>Over the garden nights, <br>Death, the gray mocker, <br>Comes and whispers to you <br>As a beautiful friend <br>Who remembers.
Poetry is a sequence of dots and dashes, spelling depths, crypts, cross-lights, and moon wisps.
POETRY: A sliver of the moon lost in the belly of a golden frog.
The moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to.
I didnt go into the NASA program to pick up rocks or to go the moon or anything else. I went in there because I was a military officer, and that was the next notch in my profession.
Well, Frank, my thoughts are very similar. The vast loneliness up here at the moon is awe-inspiring, and it makes you realize what you have back there on earth. The earth from here is a grand oasis in the big vastness of space.
When I circled the moon and looked back at Earth, my outlook on life and my viewpoint of Earth changed… Earth is a spaceship, just like Apollo – and just like Apollo, the crew must learn to live and work together. We must learn to manage the resources of this world with new imagination.
The lunar flights give you a correct perception of our existence. You look back at Earth from the moon, and you can put your thumb up to the window and hide the Earth behind your thumb. Everything youve ever known is behind your thumb, and that blue-and-white ball is orbiting a rather normal star, tucked away on the outer edge of a galaxy.
The Moon is essentially gray – no color – looks like plaster of paris – soft of gray sand.
We learned a lot about the Moon, but what we really learned was about the Earth. The fact that just from the distance of the Moon you can put your thumb up and you can hide the Earth behind your thumb. Everything that you’ve ever known, your loved ones, your business, the problems of the Earth itself-all behind your thumb. And how insignificant we really all are, but then how fortunate we are to have this body and to be able to enjoy loving here amongst the beauty of the Earth itself.
It looks to me, looking out the hatch, that we are venting something. We are venting something out into the – into space.
To call oneself a libertarian marxist today is not to look backwards but to be committed to the future. The libertarian marxist is not an academic but a militant. He is well aware that it is up to him to change the world – no more, no less. History throws him on the brink. Everywhere the hour of the socialist revolution has sounded. Revolution – like landing on the moon – has entered the realm of the immediate and possible. Precise definition of the forms of a socialist society is no longer a utopian scheme. The only utopians are those who close their eyes to these realities.
If the cells and fibres in one human brain were all stretched out end to end, they would certainly reach to the moon and back. Yet the fact that they are not arranged end to end enabled man to go there himself. The astonishing tangle within our heads makes us what we are.
After all, for mankind as a whole there are no exports. We did not start developing by obtaining foreign exchange from Mars or the moon. Mankind is a closed society.
I am not the same having seen the moon shine on the other side of the world. Mary
A sense of wrongness, of fraught unease, as if long nails scraped the surface of the moon, raising the hackles of the soul.
The dead do walk and haunt and crawl into your bed at night. Ghosts sneak into your head when you’re not looking. Stars line up and volcanoes birth out bits of glass that foretell the future. Poison berries make girls stronger, but sometimes kill them. If you howl at the moon and swear on your blood, anything you desire will be yours. Be careful what you wish for. There’s always a catch.
The stars whirled above us and the firecrackers blazed. The moon stood watch as drops of blood fell, careless seeds that sizzled in the snow.
If she were (looking into my eyes), she’d have seen how absolutely floored I was the first time I finally, truly saw her. The clouds moved at just the right moment, fully lighting her face by the moon. She was dazzlingly beautiful. Underneath thick lashes were eyes blue as ice, something cool to balance out the flames in her hair. I felt a strange flutter in my chest, like the glow of a fireplace or the warmth of the afternoon. It stayed there for a moment, playing with my pulse.
Men are like the earth and we are the moon; we turn always one side to them, and they think there is no other, because they don’t see it – but there is.
I love beautiful black-and-white movies – anything Bette Davis, especially Now, Voyager, Casablanca, Mildred Pierce; anything by Orson Welles, Truffaut, or Godard; and Paper Moon by Peter Bogdanovich.
The savage, rocky shores of Christmas Island, 200 miles south of Java, in the Indian Ocean. It’s November, the moon is in its third quarter, and the sun is just setting. In a few hours from now, on this very shore, a thousand million lives will be launched.
Tonight I’m going to shower and then just walk for about four hours and look at the moon.
When the hell is Warren Moon going to retire? I mean, this guy is older than the cuneiform in Nebuchadnezzar’s tomb.
The love I felt for her on that train ride had a capital and provinces, parishes and a Vatican, an orange planet and many sullen moons — it was systemic and it was complete.
He was so much in love with me that I could have asked him for the moon and stars, and he would have gathered them for me.
If we can send a guy to the moon we can certainly go a quarter of a mile and not get hurt.
If broken hearts could kill, the earth would be as dead as the moon.
This building we’re in has doors and windows. If we close the doors and windows, we can’t get out. People lock themselves inside a house of delusions. But they’re only delusions. They can leave anytime. Actually there is no house to leave. There’s not even any leaving. What we see are flowers in the sky, the moon in the water. As for the meditative powers of Zen masters like Hsu-yun, sometimes it’s useful to meditate and sometimes it isn’t.