Lake Siutghiol, Mamaia, Romania - 1981
Sydney, Australia - 1982
I love quotes, and I note them down all the time in books I keep. Over recent months I've been highlighting all the beautifully descriptive ones I could find about the sun. Here they are, along with a couple of appropriate photos from my 80s albums - one taken in Romania over Lake Siutghiol at Mamaia in 1981, and the other over Sydney Harbour in 1982.
Enjoy the quotes, I find them beautiful...
'The clouds were writhing with red fire, as if the sun had plunged in the invisible sea and set it flaming. Only the mountains stood out dark and firm against the conflagration of the sky.'
The Drowning Pool, p.44.
'The sun, heavy and red, was almost down on the horizon now. Its image floated like spilled fire on the water.'
Black Money, p.46.
'The sun burned like a fire ship on the water, sinking slowly till only a red smoke was left trailing up the sky.'
Black Money, p.52.
'Outside, the sun had just gone down. The sunset spread across the sea like a conflagration so intense that it fed on water.'
The Blue Hammer, p.154.
'Upriver, the sun was disappearing in a bed of unlikely colours.'
White Leopard, p.33.
'The sun was sinking into the riverbed. It seemed to be drowning in a gleaming sheet of blood.'
White Leopard, p.237.
'There was the damnedest sunset, smeared like syrup of opals over everything and dripping off the clouds the way the molten metal comes out of the ladle in a steel mill.'
Black Wings has my Angel, p.42.
'The sun sprayed lemony rays of warmth through the window and on to my face.'
Frisco Blues, p.123.
W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM
'The colour of the sea. It is deep blue in the open sea, wine-coloured under the setting sun; but in the lagoon of an infinite variety, ranging from pale turquoise to the brightest, clearest green; and there the setting sun will turn it for a short moment to liquid gold.'
A Writer’s Notebook, p.124.
'The sun was setting and the smooth sea was lucid with pale and various colour, blue, green, salmon-pink, and milky purple, and it was like the subtle and tender colour of silence.'
The Narrow Corner, p.45.
(About a sunset...)
'...just a slice of it, tangerine, then flamingo, then watered-down blood, then strawberry ice cream, off to the side of where the sun must be.'
Oryx and Crake, p.276.
'When I opened my eyes dawn’s rose had coloured your fingers on the pillow.'
Aubade, in The Balcony, p.76.
(After machine-gunning a sampan after the bombing raid...)
(Captain Trouin): ' "We will make a little detour. The sunset is wonderful on the calcaire. You must not miss it," he added kindly, like a host who is showing the beauty of his estate, and for a hundred miles we trailed the sunset over the Baie d’Along. The helmeted Martian face looked wistfully out, down the golden groves among the great humps and arches of porous stone, and the wound of murder ceased to bleed.'
The Quiet American, pp.148-149.
'The morning sunlight slanted up the maidan and struck, yellow as goldleaf, against the white face of the bungalow.'
Burmese Days, p.70.
(About the morning...)
'At that hour there were beautiful faint colours in everything – tender green of leaves, pinkish-brown of earth and tree trunks – like aquarelle washes that would vanish in the later glare.'
Burmese Days, p.72.