stars

The stars give light to night sky.

The light ought to shine for the darkness to fade.

You know what I__e learned? Most people are like a leaf, letting themselves drift and turn in the air. Eventually, they fall to the ground. But, others_ very few others_ are like stars. They have light within themselves to be their own guide. Sometimes, we look at the sky and don__ see the stars, because there is too much light bedimming them. To find the stars again, we have to go to a dark place.

Stars are made for public light shows, consider how the night sky sheers out cosmic cheers at their glow!

You deny the existence of magic. It's tragic. Aren't you a child born from the ashes of stars? Born from light to decide a life?

We sang the song as children of the mystery that we hoped to one day comprehend and now, at last, we know the answer. We, too, are twinkling stars like diamonds in the sky. We have the ability to recognize our own brilliance. We possess the same potential to light the darkest night skies.

The universe is so vast, so immense, we can never expect to explore it all. It is in effect, not so much a final frontier as an ultimate frontier; the ultimate frontier _ as wide as it is deep. Stars shine coldly in the unimaginable blackness. Out of the darkness, a tiny speck caught the distant light of stars _ a tiny gray speck that, as it moved, seemed to grow larger, catching the light just so until it revealed itself to be a ship.

Now there were stars overhead, hanging like frozen spears of light, stabbing the night sky.

Stars shine with gusto throughout their existence, whether it is dark or light. However, if you stand in the light, you cannot see them. But if you stand in the dark, the stars shine like diamonds.

There are even some stars so remote that their light will reach the Earth only when Earth itself is a dead planet, as they themselves are dead, so that the living Earth will never be visited by that forlorn ray of light, without a living source, without a living destination. Often on fine nights when the park of this establishment is vacant, I amuse myself with this marvelous instrument (telescope). I go upstairs, walk across the grass, sit on a bench in the Avenue of Oaks _ and there, in my solitude, I enjoy the pleasure of weighing the rays of dead stars.

Who says you cannot hold the moon in your hand?Tonight when the stars come out and the moon rises in the velvet sky, look outside your window, then raise your hand and position your fingers around the disk of light.There you go_._._. That was easy!

Stars and shadows ain't good to see by.

With the passage of days in this godly isolation [desert], my heart grew calm. It seemed to fill with answers. I did not ask questions any more; I was certain. Everything - where we came from, where we are going, what our purpose is on earth - struck me as extremely sure and simple in this God-trodden isolation. Little by little my blood took on the godly rhythm. Matins, Divine Liturgy, vespers, psalmodies, the sun rising in the morning and setting in the evening, the constellations suspended like chandeliers each night over the monastery: all came and went, came and went in obedience to eternal laws, and drew the blood of man into the same placid rhythm. I saw the world as a tree, a gigantic poplar, and myself as a green leaf clinging to a branch with my slender stalk. When God's wind blew, I hopped and danced, together with the entire tree.

Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars.

Every time I gaze at stars above, I feel small, big, infinite and connected all at the same time, and tonight on the Amazon is no different.

We should learn from flowers, earthly stars which spend their entire lives shining, shining and growing despite all the difficulties they encounter. They know how to listen and understand the whispers of time, for it is an eternal friend that teaches the importance of friendship and sparkling hope.

I liked learning things. How numbers worked together to explain the stars. How molecules made the world. All the ugly and wonderful things people had done in the last two thousand years.

For millions of years flowers have been producing thorns. For millions of years sheep have been eating them all the same. And it's not serious, trying to understand why flowers go to such trouble to produce thorns that are good for nothing? It's not important, the war between the sheep and the flowers? It's no more serious and more important than the numbers that fat red gentleman is adding up? Suppose I happen to know a unique flower, one that exists nowhere in the world except on my planet, one that a little sheep can wipe out in a single bite one morning, just like that, without even realizing what he'd doing - that isn't important? If someone loves a flower of which just one example exists among all the millions and millions of stars, that's enough to make him happy when he looks at the stars. He tells himself 'My flower's up there somewhere...' But if the sheep eats the flower, then for him it's as if, suddenly, all the stars went out. And that isn't important?