sunlight through a window - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The sunlight makes rainbow diamonds that dance upon the canvas that is the wall. As Earth turns they stretch and fade to the silent applause of eyes.
New white rays shine through window and curtain just the same, showing the beauty of the many tan hues that weave together to make the fabric I love so much. The browns are as varied as sand dunes at dawn, as pretty as the lightest of wood carried ashore upon windswept waves. Amid the light I see the beams as if they wave with the undulating pleats, yet in truth they are strong and true, giving structure and form. As the moments pass the intensity rises and softens, bold and gentle, telling of the day that passes in the world beyond.
The ancient mullioned window cast a checker board of brilliant noon sunlight onto the dark walnut floor. As the afternoon gave way to early evening Alysa watched the stubby squares elongate to faded rectangles, as if stretching and yawning before waning and finally surrendering to the night.
A triangle of white light was advancing from the porch into the sitting room, over the edge of the electric blue carpet, which lay untacked on the terrazzo floor.
The sunlight shone through the oval window, lying on the tiled floor like sweet honey.
The warm ball of light filtered through her thin eyelids awoke her on the second day of their vacation. Rays of brightness cast squares onto the glossy stone floor, reflecting onto several objects in the room which decorated its otherwise simplicity. She blinked a few times, in an attempt to help her eyes adjust to the illumination directed right at her defenseless figure.
Sonii slid the bill back into the pile of legislation and watched the orange rays of sunlight peak through the rectangular glass windows. The warm glow was mesmerizing, a treasure in a normally gray bleak world.
Elizabeth sits on the grey sofa in the underwater light of her living room, hands folded in her lap sedately, as if waiting for a plane. The light here is never direct, since the room faces north; she finds this peaceful.
It was hot in the room, the sun streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, put in by architects who should have known better.
He loved how this house welcomed into itself in every season lemony flecked rhomboids of sun whose slow sliding revolved it with the day, like the cabin of a ship on a curving course.
The light on the wall was as warped as the window pane. Over the centuries the glass had become thicker at the bottom and developed the waves that were now projected onto the cold stone wall. Although it was clean, barely enough light made it through to illuminate the room giving it a dingy, almost dungeon-like feel.
The frosted window cast an array of diffuse swirls onto the blue vinyl, giving it the impression of being a small sea shimmering in the early summer light.
A beacon of light pierced through the mullioned panes of glass, bathing the black and white tile floor in a crisscross of iridescent colour; illuminating the darkened room. Two young children fascinated by the great shafts of light, ran towards the beams and tried to touch the solid luminous checkerboard. Just like the dust particles in the sunlight, they flitted between the beams, playfully bounding to avoid the dark.
Even the light connived to imprison her with it's shadowy bars slanting across the cell, casting it's striped shadow over the wreck of a mattress and thin wool blanket. At night they would disappear into the blackness but she was trapped nonetheless. Trapped with the rats at her toes and the ever-present draught under the thick oak door.
A high lozenge of light told Medlar's one cracked and sleep-blurred eye that dawn had come. The dim grey oval was the porthole in the cabin trunk, opposite.
Found in Under the Eye of the Storm, authored by .
In the brilliant light of May I can't even see the glass. The sun streams in like a flamboyant guest, not waiting for an invitation. No longer can I see the white vinyl frame, just the shape. I think this window is what sold me on the house, it's like an arched doorway: low to the ground and reaching high to the ceiling. Perhaps sun-bleaching of the floors and couch should concern me, but it doesn't. The rays warm the couch and lift me to notions of gardening and walking the dog. I know he needs it, I think we both do.
Truth was, the only reason she moved out was because of the sunlight shining through the window. In her old house, it was like her parents were addicted to melancholy. She wanted a change. Needed one. Slowly, she grabbed her book of the shelf and flipped open to a page. Sitting on the arm chair by the window, she gingerly traced the spine of the book.
The book was old and perfectly fit for this time. The sun was just beginning to set and the beautiful bright color seemed to contributing to the natural light. She read word by word, until the sun was fully covered with darkness. She placed the book back in its designated spot which she will take tomorrow for another round of reading with the sunlight shining through the window.
The sunlight beamed through the white blinds, presenting the morning sun against Georges sculpted face
The morning sunlight fell on the lonely window making it glow...
The morning sun had kissed her awake. Slivers of light peeped through the drawn blinds, casting thin golden stripes across her angelic face. She opened her eyes and slowly, drowsily and lopped sidedly she smiled.