Quotes About Shadow

And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you I will show you fear in a handful of dust

Between the desire And the spasm, Between the potency And the existence, Between the essence And the descent, Falls the Shadow. This is the way the world ends. from The Hollow Man

There is shadow under this red rock // (Come in under the shadow of this red rock) // And I will show you something different from either // Your shadow at morning striding behind you // Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you // I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

They constantly try to escape From the darkness outside and within By dreaming of systems so perfect that no one will need to be good. But the man that is will shadow The man that pretends to be.

Oh my soul, be prepared for the coming of the Stranger. Be prepared for him who knows how to ask questions. There is one who remembers the way to your door: Life you may evade, but Death you shall not. You shall not deny the Stranger. They constantly try to escape From the darkness outside and within By dreaming of systems so perfect that no one will need to be good. But the man that is shall shadow The man that pretends to be.

Between the conception And the creation Between the emotion And the response Falls the Shadow

Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;

A restless shivering painted shadow In life, she is less than a shadow in death.

Beneath her calm exterior she wished fiercely that she could pound the meanness out of Joren. Even as she thought it, she knew she would do better to ignore him. Water, she thought, collecting her staff from the shed where it was kept. I am a summer lake on a windless day, clear, cool, and still. Joren is a cloud. All he can do is cast a shadow on my surface. I'll be here long after he's gone.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, because it's only a shadow.

Death is just a shadow, Jamie. I'm not afraid of shadows anymore. You can live with fear if you like, but it only draws more fear. Everything I said is true. All of it.

Be careful, Grace, Bobbie's familiar voice warned. An echo in my mind alone. And then she was there, standing across the street, hidden in shadow, invisible to others because she was there only for me. To protect me, I thought. Against things coming. My father had come and brought the boy, Eli. Protect your heart. Even from the boy? From everything. Yes, I thought, protect my heart from everything.

And he is an owl He is an owl, Man tattooed in his armpit Under the broken wing (Stunned by the wall of glare, he fell here) Under the broken wing of huge shadow that twitches across the floor. He is a man in hopeless feathers.

Wadsworth Moor Where the millstone of sky Grinds light and shadow so purple-fine And has ground it so long Grinding the skin off the earth Earth bleeds her raw true darkness A land naked now as a wound That the sun swabs and dabs Where the miles of agony are numbness And harebell and heather a euphoria

I didn't know that disappointment and grief could become all consuming. I couldn't comprehend how those feelings could cripple a person permanently and cast a shadow over an entire future.

Estaba lugubre como cuando la sombra de Helene viene a habitarlo. A deshabitarlo

Mis libros son mi pan, mi sombra, mi memoria, todo esto y más aún...

In the mansion called literature I would have the eaves deep and the walls dark, I would push back into the shadows the things that come forward too clearly, I would strip away the useless decoration. I do not ask that this be done everywhere, but perhaps we may be allowed at least one mansion where we can turn off the electric lights and see what it is like without them.

We lived under the shadow and cover of such naiveté.

In the end he came to the conclusion that it was like being chased by his own shadow; it could never actually catch him, but it'd never give up trying.

But darkness, too, really existed, as light's opposite pole.

We are all like the bright moon, we still have our darker side.

You see but your shadow when you turn your back to the sun.

Our mind is the canvas on which the artists lay their colour; their pigments are our emotions; their chiaroscuro the light of joy, the shadow of sadness. The masterpiece is of ourselves, as we are of the masterpiece.