dusk

There's a special quality to the loneliness of dusk, a melancholy more brooding even than the night's.

The sun was still out, wouldn__ even start to set for an hour, but the early evening still had that __agic hour_ feeling. The air was warm and breezy. The houses looked sparkling with windows reflecting the still bright sun.

Animal spirits often will appear during the hours between dusk and dawn; also known as the __ween times_. They will always give you something. It may be just a simple pause within the chaos of life to remind you that there is more to life than the details of living it, working it and paying for it. It may be a shred of insight or a flash of recognition that comes to you in a fleeting thought or maybe in a dream in the tween times of your own mind.

In between waking up from bed in the morning and going back in the evening, let something happen. God will bless that __omething_ for you.

Twilight ...Say, who you are !!The dusk before the nightOr the dawn before the light(Page 73)

Twilight, the only time of the day when the light and dark meet and become one. The bright powerful light of the day, calmly surrenders before the engulfing duskiness of the night. And the dense whelming darkness of the night yields before the surreal dawning saffron of the morning. The only two moments of the day that absolve the difference between __ark and light_. (Page 71)

EVENTIDEDark and light strikingeach other,vividly etching wild colorsthrough the horizon.The charm of sunset makes me wantto scurry home.

Evenings and mornings represent __he gates_ to your inner universe. Taking care of how you enter and exit these __ates_ is your primary responsibility; do not give away this power. Once you master it, life will never be the same again.

Thought is uncontrollable but controllable. Thought is the pivot of life and the epitome of good or bad living. A controlled thought is a controlled life and an uncontrolled life is an uncontrolled living. Our first and last thoughts from dawn to dusk are of great essence to living a purposeful life. They form a catalyst for a progressive or retrogressive life. What do you think of most before you sleep? What do you ponder upon most upon waking up from bed? The distinctive boundaries to your purposeful day are your first and last thoughts of the day. Remember! the first and the last thoughts.

The world is progressing. One man cannot slow it, no matter how determined he is."He stopped in the

Be still my little light beam,As I breathe life into your heart,By giving you the essence of color,To show off your blossoming heart.In its red gentleness,I see your flickering flame,And then I see your body,Glowing in the dusk.Ever so gently,You do but come to life,For me to see your entirety,For me,It__ the color of love.

To become a true Master of your Days and Nights you need to master your Dusks and Dawns at the same time.

Why didn't you write all this time?Did you not remember us in a song?A dance?In the skies littered with stars?Did you not get drunk?Why didn__ you write all this time?Did you not remember us in a film?A book?In idyllic dusks and dawns?Did you not get high?It is good that you didn't.For all is well. I am drunk and dazed.I have already forgotten youand your bewitching ways.

Long before the stars died the birds began to sing - cool rippling doves, loud cheery starlings, the long lilting trills of warblers and thrushes.

Find a part of yourself hidden in the twilight.

Scarcely has night arrived to undeceive, unfurling her wings of crepe (wings drained even of the glimmer just now dying in the tree-tops); scarcely has the last glint still dancing on the burnished metal heights of the tall towers ceased to fade, like a still glowing coal in a spent brazier, which whitens gradually beneath the ashes, and soon is indistinguishable from the abandoned hearth, than a fearful murmur rises amongst them, their teeth chatter with despair and rage, they hasten and scatter in their dread, finding witches everywhere, and ghosts. It is night... and Hell will gape once more.

As the station wagon pulled back onto the highway, the sun was slowly sinking below the horizon like a leaky boat. Well, except for that fact that boats are not generally round, orange and on fire. Hmm. Come to think of it, in no way whatsoever did the sun, in this instance, resemble a leaky boat. My apologies. That was a dreadful attempt at simile. Please allow me to try again. As the station wagon pulled back onto the highway, the sun was slowly sinking below the horizon like a self-luminous, gaseous sphere comprised mainly of of hydrogen and helium.

Outside, daylight was bleeding slowly toward dusk.