Both read the Bible day and night, but thou read black where I read white.
Night
My father was a great sympathizer of Ahad Ha’am. Every Friday night we would read Hebrew together, and often the reading was Ahad Ha’am’s essays.
To me, every hour of the day and night is an unspeakably perfect miracle.
Things are as they are. Looking out into it the universe at night, we make no comparisons between right and wrong stars, nor between well and badly arranged constellations.
In the dream life, you don’t deliberately set out to dream about a house night after night; the dream itself insists you look at whatever is trying to come into visibility.
Blemishes are hid by night and every fault forgiven; darkness makes any woman fair.
Television knows no night. It is perpetual day. TV embodies our fear of the dark, of night, of the other side of things.
Throw off your worries when you throw off your clothes at night.
When I was younger I used to get my best writing done at night, but now it has to be during the day. I usually finish work at half past seven, then go back to the house to open a bottle of wine, have dinner, and then read or watch television.
In the language of poetry, where every word is weighed, nothing is usual or normal. Not a single stone and not a single cloud above it. Not a single day and not a single night after it. And above all, not a single existence, not anyone’s existence in this world.