My husband and I went to Bald Head Island for our four-year anniversary. We spent the night in bed with champagne, tequila and Krispy Kreme doughnuts and watched a boxing match on Showtime.
On the night of the murder I was at home, asleep. The characters in my dream can vouch for me.
I’m losing more hours of sunlight at night than anywhere else.
Down there the nights are bright and nobody believes in the Devil.
I was a newborn vampire, weeping at the beauty of the night.
It is of men, and of them only, that one should always be frightened.
Never are we as honest as at night, alone with thoughts and nightmares.
Too bad one night couldn't turn into forever.
At night I dream of things I scoff at by day.
There is nothing left of him but curiosity and a pair of eyes.
I long for sleep, and for soft English rain. But they do not come.
Death isn't a tragedy to God, only to those left behind.
...for nothing is more boring than being forced to play.
Betrayal isn't ridiculous. It's the reason empires fall.
I’m frozen in place as his eyes rake over me.
Nights without work I spent with whisky and books.
All men think that a woman walking alone at night is a whore.
Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.
Books have long been instruments of the divinatory arts.
The world encyclopedia, the universal library, exists, and it is the world itself.
Will I get nights of ecstasy?" "And days. Ecstasy all the time.
