Quotes About Darkness

Andrzej Sapkowski

They are not demons, not devils . . . Worse than that. They are people.

Eu havia aprendido que confiar naqueles que pareciam inocentes só levava a corações partidos e devastação. Os monstros podiam exibir sorrisos amigáveis e, ao mesmo tempo, exalar a alma podre do Diabo nas fendas mais escuras de si mesmos.

Progress," said Yarpen Zigrin amidst the silence, "will eventually light up the darkness. The darkness will yield before the light. But not right away. And definitely not without a fight.

May Ye All Wail, for the Destroyer of Nations is upon us. Your lands shall they trample and divide with rope. Your cities razed shall be, their dwellers expelled. The bat, owl and raven your homes shall infest, and the serpent will therein make its nest . . . Aen Ithlinnespeath     The

Andrzej Sapkowski

Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster; for if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes back into you. Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil

The priceless writing from the Dark Ages burned with a tall, bright flame. For a few short moments the centuries spoke with the soft whisper of paper blackening in the fire. And then the flame went out and darkness covered the earth.

Only Evil and Greater Evil exist and beyond them, in the shadows, lurks True Evil. True Evil, Geralt, is something you can barely imagine, even if you believe nothing can still surprise you. And sometimes True Evil seizes you by the throat and demands that you choose between it and another, slightly lesser, Evil.

O czwartej nad ranem noc powoli unosi czarny ty?ek, jakby ob?arta wstawa?a od sto?u i sz?a spa?. Powietrze jest jak zimny atrament, sp?ywa asfaltowymi drogami, rozlewa si? i krzepnie w czarne jeziora.

Ciemno?? i czas - lekkie, niewidzialne substancje, które obna?aj? ludzk? krucho??. Umys? jest tylko p?omykiem zapa?ki na wietrze. Dusza ze strachu przed mrokiem wtula si? w cia?o, a ono swoje istnienie stwierdza dotykaj?c w?asnej skóry.

Pada?o ca?? noc. ?wiat mia? zamieni? si? w sopel. Mia? przypomina? szklan? kul?, w której tkwi ma?y domek i ba?wan, a z b??kitnego nieba spadaj? ma?e p?atki. I tylko ha?as w ciemno?ci nie pasowa? do tego obrazu.

Light always trumps darkness. It always has, and it always will. Therefore... if you believe that your world is darkening...if you believe that the culture of your nation is growing dimmer by the year...don't blame it on the dark! Darkness is only doing what darkness does. "If darkness is winning the battles, my friend, it is because light is not doing it's job. You are light. So wake up. Wake up.

Darkness commands an inordinate amount of attention from a person who is unprepared and unprotected. Attention to darkness produces doubt. When a person is distracted and weakened by struggles, doubt whispers a message logically urging surrender; and soon, that person's focus is on his own discomfort, his fear and anger, regret and resentment.

Those of us prone to sleeplessness can always tell. We can read the great curve of the night as it arcs toward day. We've lived every minute of every dark hour in excruciating detail.

Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend; inside of a dog it's too dark to read. Groucho Marx

in the dark. The darkness is the uncertainty that always accompanies change. The mystery of whether or not a new enterprise will pan out. The reservation everyone initially feels when a new idea is introduced. The risk of being wrong. When my children

One beast and only one howls in the woods by night.

I will vanish in the morning light; I was only an invention of darkness.

And from the coffin of your madness there is no escape.

I shall take two huge handfuls of his rustling hair as he lies half dreaming, half waking, and wind them into ropes, very softly, so he will not wake up, and, softly, with hands as gentle as rain, I shall strangle him with them.

And the light, I must apologise for the lack of light... a hereditary affliction of the eyes…

Erl-King lives

I will vanish in the morning light; I was only an invention of darkness. And I leave you as a souvenir the dark, fanged rose I plucked from between my thighs, like a flower laid on a grave.