Through the blackness of night, morning gently tiptoes, feeling its way to dawn.

The nearer the dawn the darker the night.

My night has become a sunny dawn because of you

Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon...

The dawn of beauty always comes after night.

Night, like a giant, fills the church, from pavement to roof, and holds dominion through the silent hours. Pale dawn again comes peeping through the windows: and, giving place to day, sees night withdraw into the vaults, and follows it, and drives it out, and hides among the dead.