166 Mood Quotes

I'm an extremist, I have to deal with my own extreme personality, and I walk the fine line of wanting to die and wanting to be the ruler of it all.

Work a great deal at evening effects, lamplight, candlelight, etc. The intriguing thing is not to show the source of the light but the effect of the lighting.

The mood in which my book was conceived and executed, was in fact to some extent a passing one.

I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day. What hours, O what black hours we have spent This night!

This damned ranting about doom. Is that food for the minds of modern people? Do they really expect us to take them seriously?

Nobody ever grew despondent looking for trouble.

I feel some part of me can wake up and be very existential and the next day wake up and be sort of in love with the universe.

Humor is just another defense against the universe.

As the moral gloom of the world overpowers all systematic gaiety, even so was their home of wild mirth made desolate amid the sad forest.

A fit of laughter, which has been indulged to excess, almost always produces a violent reaction.

Why don't you get out of that wet coat and into a dry martini?

Spring is nature's way of saying, 'Let's party!'

It was a Sunday afternoon, wet and cheerless; and a duller spectacle this earth of ours has not to show than a rainy Sunday in London.

Like many popular best-sellers, he was a very sad and solemn man who took himself too seriously and his art not seriously enough.

The gray silence, the gray waves, the gray wastes of the sea.

There is a luxury in self-dispraise; And inward self-disparagement affords To meditative spleen a grateful feast.

Most of the time I don't have much fun. The rest of the time I don't have any fun at all.

People always called The Cure gloomy, but listening to The Cure made me happy. There was something about the gloominess that gave me comfort, and I think we're the same way.

'You all look like happy campers to me. Happy campers you are, happy campers you have been, and, as far as I am concerned, happy campers you will always be.'

During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country, and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.

The moods of sadness that come over anyone who takes up art... these dismal moods have very little compensation.

In a real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day.

A gloomy guest fits not a wedding feast.

I have remarked very clearly that I am often of one opinion when I am lying down and of another when I am standing up.

Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy.

'I'm the happiest the saddest guy in the world can be.'

I am free of all prejudice. I hate everyone equally.

Old ocean's gray and melancholy waste.

April, April, Laugh thy girlish laughter; Then, the moment after, Weep thy girlish tears!

A cheerful life is what the Muses love, A soaring spirit is their prime delight.

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

As it is so strangely ordained in this world, what is amusing will turn into being gloomy, if you stand too long before it, and then God knows what ideas may not stray into the mind... Why is it that even in moments of unthinking, careless gaiety a different and strange mood comes upon one?

When I am attacked by gloomy thoughts, nothing helps me so much as running to my books. They quickly absorb me and banish the clouds from my mind.

I have never admitted that I am more than twenty-nine, or thirty at the most. Twenty-nine when there are pink shades, thirty when there are not.

Howling in the shadows, living in a lunar spell, he finds his heaven, spewing from the mouth of hell.

He had been looking like a dead fish. He now looked like a deader fish, one of last year's, cast up on some lonely beach and left there at the mercy of the wind and tides.

In build and appearance, Tuppy somewhat resembles a bulldog, and his aspect now was that of one of these fine animals who has just been refused a slice of cake.

The discovery of a toy duck in the soap dish, presumably the property of some former juvenile visitor, contributed not a little to this new and happier frame of mind. What with one thing and another, I hadn't played with toy ducks in my bath for years, and I found the novel experience most invigorating. For the benefit of those interested, I may mention that if you shove the thing under the surface with the sponge and then let it go, it shoots out of the water in a manner calculated to divert the most careworn. Ten minutes of this and I was enabled to return to the bedchamber much more the old merry Bertram.

I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled.

The cosy glow which had been enveloping the Duke became shot through by a sudden chill. It was as if he had been luxuriating in a warm shower-bath, and some hidden hand had turned on the cold tap.

She laughed - a solo effort. Nothing in the prevailing circumstances made me feel like turning it into a duet.

I don't wait for moods. You accomplish nothing if you do that. Your mind must know it has got to get down to work.

There will be good days and bad, which means that some days I may be cranky and some days really cranky!

There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge.

He didn't curl his lip because it had been curled when he came in.

There isn't anything on earth as depressing as an old sportswriter.

The Hyla breed That shouted in the mist a month ago, Like ghost of sleigh-bells in a ghost of snow.

The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued.

I hate above all things a cross man. What right has he to murder the sunshine of a day? What right has he to assassinate the joy of life?

Call a truce, then, to our labors - let us feast with friends and neighbors, And be merry as the custom of our caste; For if 'faint and forced the laughter,' and if sadness follow after, We are richer by one mocking Christmas past.

And then a funny thing happened to me...except when I think about it, it wasn't very funny at all. There must be a line in all of us, a very clear one, just like the line that divides the light side of a planet from the dark. I think they call that line the terminator. That's a very good word for it. Because at that moment I was freaking out, and at the next I was as cool as a cucumber.

The smoking butt end of the year, November's dark iron has come to Tarker's Mills.

There was no death row at Cold Mountain, only E Block, set apart from the other four and about a quarter their size, brick instead of wood, with a horrible bare metal roof that glared in the summer sun like a delirious eyeball.

'It's a great day to be a blonde.'

Mozart is sweet sunshine. ~ Antonin Dvorak

Not Much Fun.