Twilight Sparkle Quotes

I blame it on Twilight. In real life, vampires only sparkle when they're on fire.

Isn't love the emanation of desire or just a statement of emptiness in expectation? As we long for what is missing and finally hold it, could it be that we may not crave it anymore in the end? Still, if we learn to "enjoy" the precious moments of its presence, it can remain a captivating experience and a mesmerizing adventure. If it keeps on overwhelming us with "joy," love can turn into a magic prism and make it possible to discover a rainbow of twinkles and enchanting sceneries. As our imagination constantly discerns new qualities, the sparkle of love does not expire in the boredom of forgetfulness. (“Twilight of desire“)

I'm taking fifteen, and we're moving this discussion upstairs." "You can have here! I will not listen." "You will listen," Mallory said, "and you'll tell your book club exactly what you heard." "But is like Twilight in real life!" Berna protested. "Sparkles!

As I stepped onto the gloomy landing a word formed in my mind: two syllables, starts with a V and rhymes with dire. I froze in place. Nightingale said that everything was true, after a fashion, and that had to include vampires, didn’t it? I doubted they were anything like they were in books and on TV, and one thing was for certain — they absolutely weren’t going to sparkle in the sunlight.

Everyone in the room stared at me like they expected me to grow fangs and sparkle.

The Voyager We are all lonely voyagers sailing on life's ebb tide, To a far off place were all stripling warriors have died, Sometime at eve when the tide is low, The voices call us back to the rippling water's flow, Even though our boat sailed with love in our hearts, Neither our dreams or plans would keep heaven far apart, We drift through the hush of God's twilight pale, With no response to our friendly hail, We raise our sails and search for majestic light, While finding company on this journey to the brighten our night, Then suddenly he pulls us through the reef's cutting sea, Back to the place that he asked us to be, Friendly barges that were anchored so sweetly near, In silent sorrow they drop their salted tears, Shall our soul be a feast of kelp and brine, The wasted tales of wishful time, Are we a fish on a line lured with bait, Is life the grind, a heartless fate, Suddenly, "HUSH", said the wind from afar, Have you not looked to the heavens and seen the new star, It danced on the abyss of the evening sky, The sparkle of heaven shining on high, Its whisper echoed on the ocean's spray, From the bow to the mast they heard him say, "Hope is above, not found in the deep, I am alive in your memories and dreams when you sleep, I will greet you at sunset and with the moon's evening smile, I will light your path home.. every last lonely mile, My friends, have no fear, my work was done well, In this life I broke the waves and rode the swell, I found faith in those that I called my crew, My love will be the compass that will see you through, So don't look for me on the ocean's floor to find, I've never left the weathered docks of your loving mind, For I am in the moon, the wind and the whale's evening song, I am the sailor of eternity whose voyage is not gone.

The sun was still out, wouldn’t even start to set for an hour, but the early evening still had that “magic hour” feeling. The air was warm and breezy. The houses looked sparkling with windows reflecting the still bright sun.

It was still twilight when they reached the flat rock. They sat, and the stone still held the warmth of the day's sun. At first there were only occasional sparkles, but as it got darker Chuck was lost in a daze pf delight as a galaxy of fireflies twinkled on and off, flinging upward in a blaze of light, dropping earthward like falling stars, moving in contiuous effervescent dance.

When I first heard Twilight was a book about vampires that sparkled in the light and shape shifters/wolves eager to assist the vampires, I thought, Finally, a metaphorical book dealing with politicians and lobbyists.

You’ve told me repeatedly now that you find me blindingly attractive.” “That doesn’t mean I like you. Besides, your brand of pretty is like a weapon. You reel victims in with it, just like a vampire does. I wouldn’t be surprised if you sparkle in the sun.” “I cannot believe I’m arguing with a woman who references Twilight.” “The fact that you know I’m referencing Twilight betrays you as a secret Edward-loving fanboy.” His snort is loud and scathing. “Team Jacob all the way.” I can’t help it, my eyes fly open, and I lift a corner of my mask to glare at him. “That’s it. We can never be friends.

What is it with these people who want to reason with monsters? Morons.” “I blame it on Twilight.” In real life, vampires only sparkle when they’re on fire.

Julie was still talking. “No. No, sir. Do not, I repeat, do not approach them. . . . Why?” She rolled her eyes as the person on the other end of the line asked something incredibly stupid. “Because they will eat you. . . . Yes. Eat you.” She paused to cover the phone’s receiver and said to me, “What is it with these people who want to reason with monsters? Morons.” “I blame it on Twilight.” In real life, vampires only sparkle when they’re on fire.

The abandoned stars were hers for the many rich hours os sparkling winter nights, and, unattended, she took them in like lovers. She felt that she looked out, not up, into the spacious universe, she knew the names of every bright star and all the constellations, and (although she could not see them) she was familiar with the vast billowing nebulae in which one filament of a wild and shaken mane carried in its trail a hundred million worlds. In a delirium of comets, suns, and pulsating stars, she let her eyes fill with the humming, crackling, hissing light of the galaxy's edge, a perpetual twilight, a gray dawn in one of heaven's many galleries.

Up to that time, the Republic, the Empire, had been to him only monstrous words. The Republic, a guillotine in the twilight; the Empire, a sword in the night. He had just taken a look at it, and where he had expected to find only a chaos of shadows, he had beheld, with a sort of unprecedented surprise, mingled with fear and joy, stars sparkling...

I blame it on Twilight." In real life, vampires only sparkle when they're on fire.

No. No, sir. Do not, I repeat, do not approach them.… Why?" She rolled her eyes as the person on the other end of the line asked something incredibly stupid. "Because they will eat you.… Yes. Eat you." She paused to cover the phone's receiver and said to me, "What is it with these people who want to reason with monsters? Morons." "I blame it on Twilight." In real life, vampires only sparkle when they're on fire.

This afternoon I walked through the city, making for a café where I was to meet Raphael. It was about half-past two on a day that had never really got light. It began to snow. The low clouds made a grey ceiling for the city; the snow muffled the noise of the cars until it became almost rhythmical; a steady, shushing noise, like the sound of tides beating endlessly on marble walls. I closed my eyes. I felt calm. There was a park. I entered it and followed a path through an avenue of tall, ancient trees with wide, dusky, grassy spaces on either side of them. The pale snow sifted down through bare winter branches. The lights of the cars on the distant road sparkled through the trees: red, yellow, white. It was very quiet. Though it was not yet twilight the streetlights shed a faint light. People were walking up and down on the path. An old man passed me. He looked sad and tired. He had broken veins on his cheeks and a bristly white beard. As he screwed up his eyes against the falling snow, I realised I knew him. He is depicted on the northern wall of the forty-eighth western hall. He is shown as a king with a little model of a walled city in one hand while the other hand he raises in blessing. I wanted to seize hold of him and say to him: In another world you are a king, noble and good! I have seen it! But I hesitated a moment too long and he disappeared into the crowd. A woman passed me with two children. One of the children had a wooden recorder in his hands. I knew them too. They are depicted in the twenty-seventh southern hall: a statue of two children laughing, one of them holding a flute. I came out of the park. The city streets rose up around me. There was a hotel with a courtyard with metal tables and chairs for people to sit in more clement weather. Today they were snow-strewn and forlorn. A lattice of wire was strung across the courtyard. Paper lanterns were hanging from the wires, spheres of vivid orange that blew and trembled in the snow and the thin wind; the sea-grey clouds raced across the sky and the orange lanterns shivered against them. The Beauty of the House is immeasurable; its Kindness infinite.

One tear still glistened in the corner of her left eye, shining in the brightness of the room. A tiny, clear piece of her, an ephemeral diamond. Acting on some strange instinct, I reached out to catch it with my fingertip. Round on my skin, it sparkled as my hand moved. I swiftly touched my finger to my tongue, tasting her tear, absorbing this minute particle of her.

I was sleeping. What the hell did you wake me up for?” He complains. “You kicked me and made horse noise.” He stares at me blankly for a moment before scoffing at me in disbelief and sliding back down the bed until his head hits the pillow again. “I was having a dream. Now leave me alone and let me go back to sleep.” When he rolls over I shove my hand against his back. “Were you dreaming about horses? You were fucking prancing in your sleep.” Tyler looks over his shoulder at me and I watch his face redden with embarrassment. “What? You’re delusional. I don’t prance.” I just shake my head at him. “You were totally prancing in your sleep. Prancing and Whinnying like a damn Horse.” “You shut your face! Shut your face right now!” he said I shove my finger close to his nose. “No, YOU shut your prancing face, Twilight Sparkle, before my parents hear you. You’re not even supposed to BE here. You were supposed to sneak out of my bedroom window just like always. Get out of my bed!

Vampires used to be the Dracula types, but in the last ten years most of them have become weak, brooding androgynes that only go after teenagers. A friend of mine took the opportunity to rid his whole city of them after the forth Mormon Vamps book hit and the sparkle meme was at its strongest." "So does that make Ms. Mormon Sparkle Vamp a hero?" "Of a sort. Before they started to sparkle, there were a lot of vamps who were tortured antiheroes, thanks to Rice and Whedon." Ree grimaced. "Do you know if she was clued in?" Eastwood shrugged. "She's very secretive, no one in the Underground has been able to say for sure. It's all rumor. My guess is she lost someone to a vampire and decided the greatest revenge she could inflict was to turn them into a laughing stock.

In the deep sky where there had been a sun, we saw a ring of white silver; a smoking ring, and all the smokes were silver, too; gauzy, fuming, curling, unbelievable. And who had ever seen the sky this color! Not in the earliest morning or at twilight, never before had we seen or dreamed this strange immortal blue in which a few large stars now sparkled as though for the first time in creation.

And he wanted us to call him Twilight. I was too tired and melancholy to truly feel the level of bafflement this request deserved. However, I did notice the initial exchange between my brother and Isaac/Twilight when they arrived with Tina’s momma. It went something like this: Jackson: “Tina. I didn’t know you were bringing Isaac. Good to see you, man.” Isaac/Twilight: “It’s Twilight.” Jackson (looking bemused): “No it ain’t, it’s not even noon yet.” Isaac/Twilight: “No. My name is Twilight.” Jackson (still looking bemused): “Say what?” Isaac/Twilight: “My name. Call me Twilight.” Jackson: “You mean like that My Little Pony character?” Tina: “Jackson! I didn’t know you were a My Little Pony fan.” Jackson (scowling then motioning to Isaac/Twilight): “Jessica was always watching it growing up, and I’m not a fan—not like Twilight Sparkle over here.” Isaac/Twilight: “The name is Twilight, not Twilight Sparkle.” Jackson (irritated): “If you want me to call you Twilight, then don’t be surprised if I slip up a few times and call you Pinky Pie.” A similar conversation ensued when Twilight was brought in to greet my dad, except my dad said, “That’s not a name, son. That’s a time of day.

Summer sunlight slants from the east, a million sparkles on the ocean. That first morning here, life was perfect. But underneath my skin, a vague uneasiness grew. This would not last forever.

Anne came dancing home in the purple winter twilight across the snowy places. Afar in the southwest was the great shimmering, pearl-like sparkle of an evening star in a sky that was pale golden and ethereal rose over gleaming white spaces and dark glens of spruce. The tinkles of sleigh bells among the snowy hills came like elfin chimes through the frosty air, but their music was not sweeter than the song in Anne's heart and on her lips.

Edward in the sunlight was shocking. I couldn’t get used to it, though I’d been staring at him all afternoon. His skin, white despite the faint flush from yesterday’s hunting trip, literally sparkled, like thousands of tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface.

Edward in the sunlight was shocking. I couldn't get used to it, though I'd been staring at him all afternoon. His skin, white despite the faint flush from yesterday's hunting trip, literally sparkled, like thousands of tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface.

On February 14 Sky scatters snow kisses on Chicago's land. Sparkling love drops caressing its flesh, Covering its body with dew. As the sun deplores, As my desires expose For all times you never failed to make me feel a woman Throughout the longest of the twilight midnight hours I desire you!

Then you have this other phenomena of the paranormal romance. It's all the benefits of being a vampire without the sacrifices. By the gods, Meyer's vampires walk around sparkling in the daylight and some are vegetarians. But this phenomenon is also tied to a lot of our communal fears. Fear of aging. Fear of fading youth. Fear of loneliness. But whereas the classic motifs are more concerned with confronting and overcoming our fears, the fears of the paranormal romance genre become twisted fantasies of denial. The idea of staying young, attractive and powerful for eternity feeds into the modern self-absorbed ethos.

Kaizong understood very well that the figure who stood before him was far more than an old man at the twilight of life. The sparkling lights that emitted from his eyes were clearly the result of the latest model of augmented-reality contact lenses, though Kaizong wasn’t sure of the access level. In this restricted-bitrate zone, an old man so equipped was a terrifying figure, as though he could tear off his disguise and, in a flash, turn into a cold-blooded warrior.

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The cave was cool and silent- thoroughly carpeted- with the most luxuriant mantle of mosses Alma Whittaker had ever seen. The cave was not merely mossy; it throbbed with moss. It was not merely green; it was frantically green. It was so bright in its verdure that the color nearly spoke, as though- smashing through the world of sight- it wanted to migrate into the world of sound. The moss was a thick, living pelt, transforming every rock surface into a mythical, sleeping beast. Improbably, the deepest corners of the cave glittered the brightest; they were absolutely studded, Alma realized with a gasp, with the jewellike filigree of 'Schistotega pennata.' Goblin's gold, dragon's gold, elfin gold- 'Schistotega pennata' was that rarest of cave mosses, that false gem that gleams like a cat's eye from within the permanent twilight of geologic shade, that unearthly sparkling plant that needs but the briefest sliver of light each day to sparkle like glory forever, that brilliant trickster whose shining facets have fooled so many travelers over the centuries into believing that they have stumbled upon hidden treasure. But to Alma, this 'was' treasure, more stunning than actual riches, for it bedecked the entire cave in the uncanny, glistering, emerald light that she had only ever before seen in miniature, in glimpses of moss seen through a microscope... yet now she was standing fully within it.

I AM LOVE I am the fountain of peace, lake of tranquility, I am the lips of blooming youth, I am the wine of soul and rose of nature’s bosom, I am the glimpse of beloved through amorous eyes. I am the elation, the sacred shrine in the heart of An innocent child; The chalice of my love overflows with divine grace, I am the rose whom lover’s lips have touched. The dawn breaks with the echo of my heart song, And whispers in the twilight; I am the beating heart inside of you, The twinkling star in the night sky, the ardent desire in the swell of passion, I am the tremulous lips parted in delight, an expression of love’s rhapsody. I breathe fragrance into your heart’s essence, tearing away the veil Of your sorrowful sigh, I am the flute which plays music to your ears, I am the nature’s call, the echo of mountains, the wild dance of a swelling ocean. I am the blazing fire of love arousing your soul to an eternal call; I flow towards the beloved like a dancing stream; I am the sweetness of your soul, Who fondles the book of caressing memories, beckoning you to be lost in my heart call. I am the lost gem of love that your hungry soul has been searching for years; I am the loving wreath of moments of happiness, Your name, engraved on my heart shines as a rarest treasure; That sparkles, illuminates on my desolate soul. From thee I arise, and to Thee I surrender; You are the gushing spring of my ecstasy, As the wine of my life rests in the chalice of your heart, Your lips press it to mine, sipping a sap of it, I die to rebirth in that soul wine. Beyond all language, beyond all words, wherein lies the land Of enchanting silence; a paradise where lovers yearn to dissolve, And clasp the timeless love to their bare bosom.  

She was distracted from her thoughts as he pulled something from one of his coat pockets, a flat rectangular leather case. "A present," Harry said, giving it to her. Her eyes rounded with surprise. "You didn't need to give me anything. Thank you. I didn't expect.. oh." This last as she opened the case and beheld a diamond necklace arranged on the velvet lining like a pool of glittering fire. It was a heavy garland of sparkling flowers and quatrefoil links. "Do you like it?" Harry asked casually. "Yes, of course, it's... breathtaking." Poppy had never imagined owning such jewelry. The only necklace she possessed was a single pearl on a chain. "Shall I... shall I wear it tonight?" "I think it would be appropriate with that gown." Harry took the necklace from the case, stood behind Poppy, and fastened it gently around her neck. The cold weight of the diamonds and the warm brush of his fingers at her nape elicited a shiver. He remained behind her, his hands settling lightly on the curves of her neck, moving in a warm stroke to the tops of her shoulders. "Lovely," he murmured. "Although nothing is as beautiful as your bare skin.

little of the sparkle left his eyes. “You sure?” I tossed him an are-you-kidding-me frown. “Can a woman lose one hundred and seventy-five pounds of unwanted fat by divorcing her husband?” “Damn.” He chuckled, the sound rich and husky in the twilight. “No wonder you’re still single. You’re vicious.

all she had fallen in love with him. “I hope you’re not trifling with me,” Michael had told her one evening as they browsed along the art gallery of a London mansion during a soirée. “That is, I hope I haven’t mistaken what might be mere politeness on your part for something more meaningful.” He had stopped with her in front of a large landscape done in oils. “The truth is, Miss Hathaway . . . Poppy . . . every minute I spend in your company gives me such pleasure that I can scarcely bear to be apart from you.” And she had stared up at him in wonder. “Could it be possible?” she whispered. “That I love you?” Michael had whispered back, a wry smile touching his lips. “Poppy Hathaway, it is impossible not to love you.” She had taken an unsteady breath, her entire being filled with joy. “Miss Marks never told me what a lady is supposed to do in this situation.” Michael had grinned and leaned a bit closer, as if imparting a highly confidential secret. “You’re supposed to give me discreet encouragement.” “I love you, too.” “That’s not discreet.” His brown eyes sparkled. “But it’s very nice to hear.

Good afternoon, Sasha,” Finn replied, curiously eyeing the black book under his arm. The picture on the cover was of two pale hands holding a blood red apple. “What’s that you’re reading?” “Ah, just a book to practicing my English,” he said in a nonchalant tone. There was absolutely nothing about his embarrassed grin that implied he was reading it for educational purposes, and Finn wasn’t fooled one bit. “What’s it about that’s got you so distracted?” “Well… ah… it’s a story about a vampire who plays baseball,” came his sheepish reply. “It is written by an American lass like you, Annika… although I’m not thinking she has ever met a real vampire. This one is sparkling in the sun.” “Oh my god! You’re reading Twilight? I know that story!” Annika blurted out. She was taken aback that anyone from Eritähti would be reading a book from Earth.

Draped in a gown woven from the fabric of dreams, the princess was a vision of ethereal beauty. Her attire, a long, light blue masterpiece, captured the essence of a tranquil sky at twilight. A sheer overlay added an enchanting touch, making her appear as if she were spun from threads of moonlight. The bodice, adorned with intricate beading that sparkled like distant stars, shimmered with every movement. Delicate lace sleeves, as fine as gossamer, adorned her arms. The skirt of her gown cascaded to the floor like a waterfall of dreams, its craftsmanship a testament to the artistry of the realm. A beaded belt cinched her waist, accentuating her graceful figure, while the sheer fabric, adorned with a silver glitter pattern, cast a radiant glow as she moved. With every step, her presence was a living painting from a fairy tale, a royal woven into the enchantment of the room.

Shakespeare Sonnet XVIII: Twilight Vampires Shall I compare thee to a Twilight brute? Thou art more alluring and far too cute. Thy skin like marble quarried from Carrara's mines, Stands an Augustan temple of flawless white. Thy complexion like gems sparkle in heaven's vault When fair sun rises and bids adieu to Stygian night. Thy teeth, like Wolverine's talons, lie hidden Until primed to pierce their prey. (OMG, you'd be one badass X-Men If only you could work by day). Thy eyes turn crimson like the devil's cock, When upon human blood ye feast. Who can turn their gaze from thee, Not I, nor king, nor priest. So long as mortals can breathe or Children of the Moon can see, Take my love, my freshest blood, which bequeaths immortal life to thee.

The city sparkles in the twilight, like diamonds thrown across obsidian sand.

Midnight City" Waiting in a car Waiting for a ride in the dark The night city grows Look and see her eyes, they glow Waiting in a car Waiting for a ride in the dark Drinking in the lounge Following the neon signs Waiting for a roar Looking at the milky skyline The city is my church It wraps me in the sparkling twilight Waiting in a car Waiting for the right time Waiting in a car Waiting for the right time Waiting in a car Waiting for the right time Waiting in a car Waiting for the right time Waiting in a car Waiting for a ride in the dark

I blame it on Twilight." In real life, vampires only sparkle when they're on fire.

Unlike the great vampires of the Anne Rice series, The Lost Boys movie or, more recently, True Blood, there is nothing “bad ass” in the least about the Twilight bloodsuckers. In that simpering world, centuries-old vampires mope over 17-year olds, attend high school, and sparkle in the sunlight.

they aren’t even real vampires! There’s zero concern of having their skin immediately burst into flame when hit with sunlight. Instead, it sparkles! They aren’t afraid of dying; they’re afraid of looking like they wear glitter. Oh, the agony! The immortal torture! Fuck Twilight.

...His fancy foreign accent shattered her soul. Emeka sounded so genuine, and this struck Chioma lifeless. Her hair swayed and rustled in the air as her heart pounded its way out of her chest. The air tasted sweeter and her eyes glittered in matchless pleasure. Her lips flashed a winning smile... Emeka drew closer to Chioma, slowly and gracefully, panicking her a little. If Uche caught them, it wouldn’t end well. Her face was starting to flush as his came quite closer to hers, not having the slightest clue what he was about to do... His face wore a self-satisfied smirk, and she flustered. She had no idea what to say or what to do... She subsequently fell into his arms and their eyes locked again as they stared hard into each other's smiling eyes, drawing not a single breath. She could remember them perfectly—they were black brown in color under the full moon that shined so bright. His eyes were so clear, too beautiful and just perfect, more like the blue ocean or the morning sun, or the twilight sky. His orbs danced and sparkled just like the stars twinkling above them...

The swell of tears in my eyes starts again, but this is too happy a moment for them to fall. They hang there, bright and sparkling in the twilight, as my smirk melts to a smile.

The vampire burned up?” Dylan asked, his eyes lit with humor. “You mean, he doesn’t sparkle in the sunlight?

Maybe if you were an alicorn like Twilight Sparkle and could just fly there.