Quotes About Darkness

The man slumped forward on the table. "Saints and devils!" raged the Wolf. "What does he look like, this Kane?" "Like – Satan –" The voice trailed off in silence. The dead man slid from the table to lie in a red heap upon the floor. "Like Satan!" babbled the other bandit. "I told you! 'Tis the Horned One himself! I tell you –

Over shadowy spires and gleaming towers lay the ghostly darkness and silence that runs before dawn.

Let him make rimes for the vultures.

It's a mad nightmare,' I muttered.

Arus the watchman grasped his crossbow with shaky hands, and he felt beads of clammy perspiration on his skin as he stared at the unlovely corpse sprawling on the polished floor before him. It is not pleasant to come upon Death in a lonely place at midnight.

The wild hetman stood like a statue for a space, dimly grasping something of the cosmic tragedy of the fitful ephemera called mankind and the hooded shapes of darkness which prey upon it.

It will bear thrice my own," answered Taurus. "It was woven from the tresses of dead women, which I took from their tombs at midnight, and steeped in the deadly wine of the upas tree, to give it strength. I will go first – then follow me closely.

Gods black and white, dark and light! He shook his clenched fists above his head in the black gust of his passion. That I should stand by and see a man of mine butchered on a Roman cross—without justice and with no more trial than that farce! Black gods of R'lyeh, even you would I invoke to the ruin and destruction of those butchers! I swear by the Nameless Ones, men shall die howling for that deed, and Rome shall cry out as a woman in the dark who treads upon an adder!

There is no god but evil; no lite but darkness; no hope but doom—

Cimmeria, land of Darkness and deep Night.

There was no life in the Abyss, save that which was incorporated in me," it tolled. "Nor was there light, nor motion, nor any sound. Only the urge behind and beyond life guided and impelled me on my upward journey, blind, insensate, inexorable. Through ages upon ages, and the changeless strata of darkness I climbed–

You or I might think that at least one would show courage and put up a fight. But neither you nor I have suffered as they, and even we have born witness in silence to lesser ills under less dire threat. Yet, in the face of evil, to sit silent is an even greater evil. Complacency is ever the enabler of darkest deeds;

It looked as if a night of dark intentWas coming, and not only a night, an age.Someone had better be prepared for rage.There would be more than ocean-water brokenBefore God's last Put out the Light was spoken.

These woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

With their backs to the sunrise they worship the night.

In the depths of his tiredness, surrounded by these blank, sheep-like visages, he found himself pondering the accidents that had brought all of them into being. Every birth was, viewed properly, mere chance. With a hundred million sperm swimming blindly through the darkness, the odds against a person becoming themselves were staggering.

It was four in the morning, the hopeless hour when shivering insomniacs inhabit a world of hollow shadow, and existence seems frail and strange.

Nutters love murder.

He left Della sitting in the darkness, a little drunk, with nothing else for company but the picture of the dead daughter she had never seen. Closing the front door, Strike couldn't remember the last time he had felt such a strange mixture of admiration, sympathy and suspicion.

You think he had it in him to kill her, do you?" "Of course I do," said Somé dismissively. "Of course he has. All of us have got it in us, somewhere, to kill.

He had found humor in darker places.

While he took care never to let her see him, Strike doubted that her hollow eyes would retain much of an impression even if he had moved into plain view. They had become shuttered, full of inner darkness, no longer taking in the outside world.

Over time, he'd come to understand that in some dark corner of his mind, he'd been dreading and half-expecting the news. The ax had fallen at last, suspense was forever over . . .

Your mother," he said, in a deep Borders accent, "was a fucking whore." Strike laughed. "Maybe so," he said, bleeding and smoking in the darkness as the sirens grew louder, "but she loved me, Donnie. I heard yours didn't give a shit about you, little policeman's bastard that you were.