sunlight - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Sunlight comes as woven strands, free and united, flowing into a day it reveals and solidifies, making the world of our nightly dreams something so beautiful. Each tree is a masterpiece, each wand of grass something magical. And this is our world, our normal everyday world, the present with each rise of the sun that we can marvel at or ignore; the choice is ours, it always was.
Today the sunlight conjured the most brilliant of mosaics, reflecting from each leaf and wisp of cloud. It was as if there was a pure joy in the light, as if it were happy to create art where it shone, warm and steady. It was as the smiles of friends, as fresh rain after summer sun, something to quench and soothe all at once.
My eyes rest upon golden arcing rays, knowing the dark is far and ever lit by stars. It is the illumination that gives vivacious hues to this world of living art.
The early morning sunlight, soft and diffuse, gives way to the first strong rays of the day, the ones that bring true warmth. In this light, water evaporates in slow waves, waves that eddy in the gentle breeze, flowing upward to white-puffed clouds, ships of white in the blue above. The opera from the trees becomes all the more powerful, as if these golden rays are their conductor's wand, and together they are the song that calls forth the spring.
Sunlight comes, an elixir after so many black hours. The air becomes sweeter; birds soften the dawn with their chorus; we breathe more deeply as if permission has been bestowed. Already the greyness is gone, evaporated as fast as desert rain, and the heat of the day can already be felt.
The noon sunlight is like a camera - telling no lies. In a world with shades of truth it is the harshest of them all, revealing every flaw in plain sight. Come the evening time the sunlight will bring a more sepia hue and make softer pictures of us all.
Sunlight paints Emilia's lips red and hair ebony; it plays over her dress, alighting softly on her skin. Sunlight gives her eyes just the right glimmer as she drops them to her shoes. But there's something about her that makes me want to see her in the twilight, to see how her honeyed tones warm without the brilliant white rays.
The sunlight is watery and cold; this the way of winter sun in these parts. Without colour radiated back from either grass and leaf, without the warmth of summer, it brings nothing but sharp illumination.
She looked up and her breath caught in her throat. The overcast sky was streaked by brilliant orange, the sinking sun giving a new light to the dull landscape. The skyscrapers no longer seemed so ominous, their foreboding aura giving way to a sense of hope. Her lips curved into a small smile.
The sunlight came all at once - not a steady dawn or a trickle of rays. It came like the switching on of search lights from a chopper, violent and harsh. Autumn brought her hand over her still closed eyes to shield them from the unwelcome intruder.
There was a strangeness to the sunlight, as if a layer of tinted filtering had been added in the sky. Everything was cast in honeyed tones, beautiful yet unnerving. Melody moved her hand through the air, watching her fingers. It was almost as if the light had developed a thickness.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves above, flowing through the gaps like water. Where it struck the forest floor the last vestiges of autumn colour could be seen, fading quickly as winter wore on.
Sunlight sauntered in, welcome or not, igniting the shadowy colours of the room back to vivid oranges and reds. Even in winter it brought a warmth, but without the intensity of the summertime.
Gold and pale, the sunlight filled the entire room with a warm sensation that made me smile.