Quotes about Sun

The sun of God's glory was made to shine at the center of the solar system of our soul. And when it does, all the planets of our life are held in their proper orbit.

If the beams are beautiful, the sun is even more beautiful. God's aim is not that we merely admire His gifts, but even more, His glory.

During the day it is hard to remember that all the stars in the sky are out there all the time, even when I am too blinded by the sun to see them.

I waked that I judged it was after eight o'clock. I laid there in the grass and the cool shade thinking about things, and feeling rested and ruther comfortable and satisfied. I could see the sun out at one or two holes, but mostly it was big trees all about, and gloomy in

If you try to imagine as nearly as you can what an amount of misery, pain, and suffering of every kind the sun shines upon in its course, you will admit that it would be much better if on the earth as little as on the moon the sun were able to call forth the phenomena of life; and if, here as there, the surface were still in a crystalline state.

The earth's shadow on the moon was always round, which would be true only if the earth was spherical. If the earth had been a flat disk, the shadow would have been elongated and elliptical, unless the eclipse always occurred at a time when the sun was directly under the center of the disk.

If you try to extinguish the light of one who shines like the sun you will get burned.

Love and sacrifice are closely linked, like the sun and the light. We cannot love without suffering and we cannot suffer without love.

Sometimes, as practice for trying to convince myself that God exists, I try to convince my shadow that the sun exists.

I'd write of people and places like I knew, and I'd make my characters talk everyday English; and I'd let the sun rise and set in the usual quiet way without much fuss over the fact. If I had to have villains at all, I'd give them a chance, Anne—I'd give them a chance.

Ingeborg lifted her face to the sun, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of the lake—wavelets lapping the shore, birds singing and two jays scolding above them, the wind sharing secrets with the crags, and children laughing and shouting. The mountain music filled Ingeborg with such joy, it leaked out her eyes and down her cheeks.

A meadowlark clinging to a goldenrod loosed his song in notes of joy that Joshua was sure he could see sparkling in the sun. Dewdrops still outlined a spider's web in dots of glitter, a prism of golden rays.