It’s the twilight, he thought; I hate the twilight.
It’s the twilight, he thought; I hate the twilight.
She walked through the early twilight of the city streets to the Wayne-Falkland Hotel.
She saw him standing at the window of his office, one evening, looking at the brown winter twilight of the city.
The red flame of poured steel shot through the twilight.
He glanced at the soft twilight around them, then at the sparkle of two wine glasses on their table.
That was the enemy-she thought, as she sat at her desk in the gathering twilight-with whom she was running a race.
No, she thought-as she walked through the gray twilight, past the’ windows of abandoned shops, to the Wayne-Falkland Hotel-no, there could be no answer.
When they voted for it, the members of the National Alliance of Railroads sat in a large hall in the deepening twilight of a late autumn evening and did not look at one another.
A haze of twilight remained over the ground, but in the breaks between the tree trunks there were leaves that hung in patches of shining green and seemed to light the forest.
THE IMMOVABLE MOVERS Motive power-thought Dagny, looking up at the Taggart Building in the twilight-was its first need; motive power, to keep that building standing; movement, to keep it immovable.
They were clinging to the side of a vertical cliff, with the earth rolling down, dropping away, and giant tiers of twisted boulders streaming up and shutting out the sun, leaving them to speed through a bluish twilight, with no sight of soil or sky.
The twilight was draining the sky without the wound of a sunset; it looked more like the fading of an anemic body in the process of exhausting its last drops of blood and light.
He felt nothing-nothing but the sense of an even, restful twilight, like a spread of slag over a molten metal, when it crusts and swallows the last brilliant spurt of the white glow within.
The pavement shrank to a narrow path between two walls of ancient pines, their tall, straight trunks pressing against it like a grim colonnade, their branches meeting above, swallowing the path into sudden silence and twilight.
There was a cold wind outside, tightening his overcoat about him like an embrace, there was the great, fresh sweep of country stretching at the foot of the hill, and the clear, receding sky of twilight.
They were sitting quietly now, they were listening, but their eyes had an ebbing look of twilight, a look of fear in the process of being accepted as permanent, the look of raw wounds being dimmed by the veil of infection.
The walls of the street around him had the stressed, unnatural clarity of a summer twilight, while an orange haze filled the channels of intersections and veiled the tiers of roofs, leaving him on a shrinking remnant of ground.
She would sit at the door of the cabin at sunset and watch the motion of the leaves growing still in the twilight-then she would see the sparks of the fireflies rising from the grass, flashing on and off in every darkening corner, flashing slowly, as if holding one moment’s warning-they were like the lights of signals winking at night over the track of a-Stop it!
The deep burgundy color of her gown was unbecoming, it seemed to draw a purplish tinge out of her skin, a tinge that gathered, like twilight, in the small gullies of her face, softening her flesh to a texture of tired slackness, changing her look of bright mockery into a look of stale malice.
He had walked out into the summer twilight of the streets, feeling as if he were both pursuing and pursued: pursuing a pleasure which nothing could give him, in celebration of a feeling which he dared not name-pursued by the dread of discovering what motive had moved him through the planning of tonight’s achievement and what aspect of it now gave him this feverish sense of gratification.
She looked at the faces of the four men in the soft twilight of Mulligan’s living room: Galt, whose face had the serene, impersonal attentiveness of a scientist-Francisco, whose face was made expressionless by the hint of a smile, the kind of smile that would fit either answerHugh Akston who looked compassionately gentle-Midas Mulligan, who had asked the question with no touch of rancor in his voice.
But there were too many entrances to cover and no place where she could watch while remaining unseen-she had stood in the soggy twilight on a sidewalk glittering with rain, pressed to the wall of a warehouse, her coat collar raised to her cheekbones, raindrops falling off the brim of her hat-she had stood exposed to the sight of the street, knowing that the glances of the men who passed her were glances of recognition and astonishment, knowing that her vigil was too dangerously…
But some news could be witnessed in the streets of New York, in the cold, dank twilight of autumn evenings: a crowd gathered in front of a hardware store, where the owner had thrown the doors open, inviting people to help themselves to the last of his meager stock, while he laughed in shrieking sobs and went smashing his plate-glass windowsa crowd gathered at the door of a run-down apartment house, where a police ambulance stood waiting, while the bodies of a man, his wife and their…
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Show samples from other sources
It is a beautiful picture taken in twilight.
I awakened to a twilight sky, but did not know if the sun was setting or rising.