Quotes About Darkness

I know that the night is not the same as the day: that all things are different, that the things of the night cannot be explained in the day, because they do not then exist, and the night can be a dreadful time for lonely people once their loneliness has started.

The things of the night cannot be explained in the day, because they do not then exist.

It was dark now as it becomes dark quickly after the sun sets in September. He lay against the worn wood of the bow and rested all that he could. The first stars were out. He did not know the name of Rigel but he saw it and knew soon they would all be out and he would have all his distant friends. 'The fish is my friend too,' he said aloud. 'I have never seen or heard of such a fish. But I must kill him. I am glad we do not have to try to kill the stars.

the things of the night cannot be explained in the day, because they do not then exist, and the night can be a dreadful time for lonely people once their loneliness has started.

Man is not much beside the great birds and beasts. Still I would rather be that beast down there in the darkness of the sea.

There is no reason why because it is dark you should look at things differently from when it is light. The hell there isn't!

Znam da no? nije isto što i dan:da su stvari razli?ite,da se ono što ?ovjek osje?a no?u,danju ne može objasniti,jer tada to ne postoji,a za osamljene ljude,kad njihova osamljenost jednom uzme maha,no? može biti vrijeme užasa.

You do not love Him at all? he asked. I am afraid of Him in the night sometimes.

I said, 'Who killed him?' and he said 'I don't know who killed him, but he's dead all right,' and it was dark and there was water standing in the street and no lights or windows broke and boats all up in the town and trees blown down and everything all blown and I got a skiff and went out and found my boat where I had her inside Mango Key and she was right only she was full of water.

There is no reason why because it is dark you should look at things differently from when it is light. The hell there isn't! I

Spirituality is experienced in our Listening, in our Forgiveness, in our Dark places, in our Confusions, in our stories—not so much in what we "do," but in what and how we be . . . by how we experience the realities that we meet. Spirituality is, in briefest description, a way of life—a way of being.

I don't know what it means for others, but for a follower of Jesus Christ, what it means to live on the edge is to stand at the epicenter of where the kingdom of God confronts the kingdom of darkness. When evil raises its ugly head, taunting God and tormenting the weak, the adventurer rises up and moves toward the challenge. Like a guided missile, the adventurous spirit moves toward its greatest challenge.

The whole fauna of human fantasies, their marine vegetation, drifts and luxuriates in the dimly lit zones of human activity, as though plaiting thick tresses of darkness. Here, too, appear the lighthouses of the mind, with their outward resemblance to less pure symbols. The gateway to mystery swings open at the touch of human weakness and we have entered the realms of darkness. One false step, one slurred syllable together reveal a man's thoughts. —Louis Aragon

A knight sets out to illuminate the darkness in society, not from its leaves but from its roots. This is how justice will be realized. Find the source

the hollow rumble of wings, the movement of darkness, and the stillness of light.

Then the light changed the water, until all about them the woods in the rising wind seemed to grow taller and blow inward together and suddenly turn dark. The rain struck heavily. A huge tail seemed to lash through the air and the river broke in a wound of silver.

It was never dark enough, the enormous sky flashing with August light rushing into the emptiest rooms, the loneliest windows. The month of falling stars.

The day is for honest men, the night for thieves.

In the darkness, I had been afraid that he was evil. At dawn, I realized he had been my friend and guardian, watching over me all night long.

Every good thing we know would be lost to darkness, all unremembered, if each had not been preserved for us by some sinner with a pen.

Its skin was ash-gray, darkened by patches of sickly red. Its semihuman features were strangely elongated, as if its head had been stretched top to bottom. Strands of greasy hair were strung across its mottled pate. Its nose was like a pit. Its cheeks were deeply sunken. Its mouth gaped open, the sharp teeth gleaming within. It would have almost seemed the face of a dead and rotting thing except that the eyes were sparkling with an eager, living cruelty.

ongoing blackout.

I am only half myself. the other side's a dark idea I like to believe in.

I had once asked him if he felt happy hiding in the internet and he said yes, it was his home. On a good day it is the bright field that contains all souls but on a bad day it is the final darkness, where misery is gapingly exposed.