The indigo night was pricked with sharp cold stars.

A mostly clear sky; sharp little stars and a sliver of moOn.

In black emptiness only sharp non-blinking stars could be seen.

The sun was represented by a sharp, bright star far in the distance.

The crystals, which are the color of the costumes, prick through the careful dance patterns like sharp little stars in a night sky.

The sharp stars were eyes staring out of a swallowing abyss.

Through the narrow clerestory he could see the stars, sharp and bright in a sky flooded with moonlight.

His head was dark, crowned with sharp white stars that glittered in the black pools of the sky behind.

He threw back his head and looked at the sharp stars.

Earth and its people were just lost, just a speck of nothing among those cold sharp stars.