C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.


God’s lidless eye!

Horace Smith.

O sun! of this great world both eye and soul.


He maketh His sun to rise on the evil and on the good.


Shines upon all men with impartial light.


The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun.


Her sun is gone down while it is yet day.


Suns are sunflowers of a higher light.


That orbed continent, the fire that severs day from night.


The sun, God’s crest upon His azure shield, the heavens.


The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.


Neither the sun nor death can be looked at steadily.

La Rochefoucauld.

High in his chariot glowed the lamp of day.


There sinks the nebulous star we call the Sun.


  • The heavenly-harness’d team
  • Begins his golden progress in the east.
  • Shakespeare.

    The sun, reflecting upon the mud of strands and shores, is unpolluted in his beam.

    Jeremy Taylor.

    But yonder comes the powerful king of day rejoicing in the east.


  • Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,
  • The day to cheer, and night’s dank dew to dry.
  • Shakespeare.

    The glorious lamp of heaven, the radiant sun, is Nature’s eye.


    Let others hail the rising sun; I bow to that whose course is run.


    The sun was set, and Vesper, to supply his absent beams, had lighted up the sky.


    All the world’s bravery that delights our eyes is but thy several liveries.


    He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines, and darts his light through every guilty hole.


    The sun stands, at midnight, blood-red, on the mountains of the North.


    In the warm shadow of her loveliness he kissed her with his beams.


    The sun is all about the world we see, the breath and strength of every spring.


    The very dead creation from thy touch assumes a mimic life.


    A sunbeam passes through pollution unpolluted.


    The downward sun looks out effulgent from amid the flash of broken clouds.


  • Now deep in ocean sunk the lamp of light,
  • And drew behind the cloudy veil of night.
  • Pope.

  • Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
  • That I may see my shadow as I pass.
  • Shakespeare.

    He from our sight, retires awhile, and then rises and shines o’er all the world again.


    Sunlight is like the breath of life to the pomp of autumn.


  • At length the sun began to peep,
  • And glid the surface of the deep.
  • Somerville.

    Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes down.


    The sun shineth upon the dunghill and is not corrupted.


    The sun, too, shines into cesspools, and is not polluted.

    Diogenes Laërtius.

  • The selfsame sun that shines upon his court
  • Hides not his visage from our cottage, but
  • Looks on alike.
  • Shakespeare.

  • I ’gin to be aweary of the sun,
  • And wish the estate o’ the world were now undone.
  • Shakespeare.

  • The sun, centre and sire of light,
  • The keystone of the world-built arch of heaven.
  • Bailey.

    In his east the glorious lamp was seen, regent of the day; and all the horizon round, invested with bright rays.


    The radiant sun sends from above ten thousand blessings down, nor is he set so high for show alone.


    Thou sun, whose beams adorn the spheres, and with unwearied swiftness move to form the circles of our years.

    Dr. Watts.

    The weary sun hath made a golden set, and by the bright track of his fiery car, gives signal of a goodly day to-morrow.


    When the sun shines on you, you see your friends. It requires sunshine to be seen by them to advantage!

    Lady Blessington.

  • Busy old fool, unruly sun,
  • Why dost thou thus,
  • Through windows and through curtains call on us?
  • John Donne.

    “If that is not God,” said Mirabeau, as the sun shone into his death-chamber, “it is at least his cousin-german.”


  • What light through yonder window breaks!
  • It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!—
  • Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon.
  • Shakespeare.

  • The great luminary
  • Aloof the vulgar constellations thick,
  • That from his lordly eye keep distance due,
  • Dispenses light from far.
  • Milton.

  • She stood breast-high amid the corn,
  • Clasp’d by the golden light of morn,
  • Like the sweetheart of the sun,
  • Who many a glowing kiss had won.
  • Hood.

  • See the gold sunshine patching,
  • And streaming and streaking across
  • The gray-green oaks; and catching,
  • By its soft brown beard, the moss.
  • Bailey.

    Though the sun scorches us sometimes, and gives us the headache, we do not refuse to acknowledge that we stand in need of his warmth.

    Philip de Mornay.

  • There was not, on that day, a speck to stain
  • The azure heaven; the blessed sun alone,
  • In unapproachable divinity,
  • Career’d, rejoicing in his fields of light.
  • Southey.

    The glorious sun stays in his course, and plays the alchemist, turning with splendor of his precious eye the meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold.


  • The angels even
  • Draw strength from gazing on its glance,
  • Though none its meaning fathom may;
  • The world’s unwither’d countenance
  • Is bright as at creation’s day.
  • Goethe.

  • Thou tide of glory, which no rest doth know,
  • But ever ebb and ever flow!
  • Thou golden shower of a true Jove!
  • Who doth in thee descend, and heaven to earth make love.
  • Cowley.

    The sun, which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a strong man to run a race. His going forth is from the end of the heaven, and his circuit unto the ends of it. And there is nothing hid from the heat thereof.


    Whence are thy beams, O sun! thy everlasting light? Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty; the stars hide themselves in the sky; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave: but thou thyself movest alone.


  • Through the soft ways of heaven, and air, and sea,
  • Which open all their pores to thee,
  • Like a clear river thou dost glide,
  • And with they living stream through the close channel slide.
  • Cowley.

  • And see—the Sun himself!—on wings
  • Of glory up the East he springs.
  • Angel of Light! who from the time
  • Those heavens began their march sublime,
  • Hath first of all the starry choir
  • Trod in his Maker’s steps of fire!
  • Moore.

  • Most glorious art thou! when from thy pavilion
  • Thou lookest forth at morning; flinging wide
  • Its curtain clouds of purple and vermillion,
  • Dispensing life and light on every side.
  • Barton.

  • Till, as a giant strong, a bridegroom gay,
  • The sun springs dancing through the gates of day,
  • He shakes his dewy locks, and hurls his beams
  • O’er the proud hills, and down the glowing streams:
  • His fiery coursers bound above the main,
  • And whirl the car along th’ ethereal plain;
  • The fiery courses and the car display
  • A stream of glory and a flood of day.
  • Broome.

  • And the sun had on a crown
  • Wrought of gilded thistledown,
  • And a scarf of velvet vapor
  • And a raveled rainbow gown;
  • And his tinsel-tangled hair
  • Tossed and lost upon the air
  • Was glossier and flossier
  • Than any anywhere.
  • James Whitcomb Riley.

  • Failing yet gracious,
  • Slow pacing, soon homing,
  • A patriarch that strolls
  • Through the tents of his children,
  • The sun as he journeys
  • His round on the lower
  • Ascents of the blue,
  • Washes the roofs
  • And the hillsides with clarity.
  • Wm. Ernest Henley.

    The glorious sun—the centre and soul of our system—the lamp that lights it,—the fire that heats it,—the magnet that guides and controls it;—the fountain of colour, which gives its azure to the sky, its verdure to the fields, its rainbow-hues to the gay world of flowers and the purple light of love to the marble cheek of youth and beauty.

    Sir David Brewster.

    More joyful eyes look at the setting than at the rising sun. Burdens are laid down by the poor, whom the sun consoles more than the rich. No star and no moon announce the rising sun; and does not the setting sun, like a lover, leave behind his image in the moon? I yearn towards him when he sets, not when he rises.


  • Blest power of sunshine! genial day,
  • What balm, what life are in thy ray!
  • To feel thee is such real bliss,
  • That, had the world no joy but this,
  • To sit in sunshine calm and sweet,
  • It were a world too exquisite
  • For man to leave it for the gloom,
  • The deep cold shadow of the tomb.
  • Moore.

  • The golden sun, in splendor likest heav’n,
  • Dispenses light from far; they, as they move
  • Their starry dance, in numbers that compute
  • Days, months, and years, towards his all-cheering lamp,
  • Turn swift their various motions, or are turn’d
  • By his magnetic beam, that gently warms
  • The universe; and to each inward part,
  • With gentle penetration, though unseen,
  • Shoots invisible virtue ev’n to the deep.
  • Milton.

  • Thou material God!
  • And representative of the Unknown,
  • Who chose thee for His shadow! Thou chief star!
  • Centre of many stars!—which mak’st our earth
  • Endurable, and temperest the hues
  • And hearts of all who walk within thy rays!
  • Sire of the seasons! Monarch of the climes,
  • And those who dwell in them! for near or far,
  • Our inborn spirits have a tint of thee,
  • Even as our outward aspects,—thou dost rise,
  • And shine and set in glory!
  • Byron.