Sunset.

March 3, 2013 § Leave a comment

“Dusk is just an illusion because the sun is either above the horizon or below it. And that means that day and night are linked in a way that few things are there cannot be one without the other yet they cannot exist at the same time. How would it feel I remember wondering to be always together yet forever apart?” – Nicholas Sparks

 

 

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Route 395 Sunset

Route 395 Sunset

http://peaksforpeace.com/peakreports/a-four-14er-weekend-russell-whitney-muir-white

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“Twilight fell: The sky turned to a light, dusky purple littered with tiny silver stars.” – J.K. Rowling

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White Mountain Peak, California

White Mountain Peak, California

http://www.willhiteweb.com/california_climbing/white_mountain_peak/bishop_hiking_065.htm

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“Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgandy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries.” – Jack Kerouac

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Spring Valley NV

Spring Valley NV

http://handlensandbinoculars.blogspot.com/2011/04/spring-valley.html

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“The pale stars were sliding into their places. The whispering of the leaves was almost hushed. All about them it was still and shadowy and sweet. It was that wonderful moment when, for lack of a visible horizon, the not yet darkened world seems infinitely greater—a moment when anything can happen, anything be believed in.” – Olivia Howard Dunbar

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Boundery Peak

Boundary Peak

http://javageno.blogspot.com/2011/07/eastern-sierra-part-4.html

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“It was growing dark on this long southern evening, and suddenly, at the exact point her finger had indicated, the moon lifted a forehead of stunning gold above the horizon, lifted straight out of filigreed, light-intoxicated clouds that lay on the skyline in attendant veils.

Behind us, the sun was setting in a simultaneous congruent withdrawal and the river turned to flame in a quiet duel of gold….The new gold of moon astonishing and ascendant, he depleted gold of sunset extinguishing itself in the long westward slide, it was the old dance of days in the Carolina marshes, the breathtaking death of days before the eyes of children, until the sun vanished, its final signature a ribbon of bullion strung across the tops of water oaks.” – Pat Conroy

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