Quotes About Darkness

See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life

People and trees receded on either hand like the dark sides of a tunnel as I hurtled on to the still, bright point at the end of it, the pebble at the bottom of the well, the white sweet baby cradled in its mother's belly.

What happens between us Happens in darkness, vanishes Easy and often as each breath.

Es kam mir vor, als müsse Schatten das Schönste auf der Welt sein, die Millionen beweglicher Formen und Sackgassen des Schattens. Schatten fand sich in Kommodenschubladen, Wandschränken, Koffern, und Schatten fand sich unter Häusern, Bäumen, Steinen, auch fand sich Schatten ganz hinten in den Augen und im Lächeln der Leute, und Schatten, Meilen und Meilen von Schatten, fand sich auf der Nachtseite der Erde.

I feigned sleep until my mother left for school, but even my eyelids didn't shut out the light. They hung the raw, red screen of their tiny vessels in front of me like a wound. I crawled between the mattress and the padded bedstead and let the mattress fall across me like a tombstone. It felt dark and safe under there, but the mattress was not heavy enough. It needed about a ton more weight to make me sleep.

It was like the first time I saw a cadaver. For weeks afterward, the cadaver's head--or what there was left of it--floated up behind my eggs and bacon at breakfast... and pretty soon I felt as though I were carrying that cadaver's head around with me on a string, like some black, noseless balloon stinking of vinegar.

The thought that I might kill myself formed in my mind as coolly as a tree or a flower.

Only the mouth-hole piped out, Importunate cricket In a quarry of silences. The people of the city heard it. They hunted the stones, taciturn and separate, The mouth-hole crying their locations. Drunk as a fetus I suck at the paps of darkness. The food tubes embrace me. Sponges kiss my lichens away. The jewelmaster drives his chisel to pry Open one stone eye. This is the after-hell: I see the light. A wind unstoppers the chamber

He felt the ground frail as a bird's skull under his feet, a mere shell of sanity and decorum between him and the dark entrails of the earth where the sluggish muds and scalding waters had their source.

I feigned sleep until my mother left for school, but even my eyelids didn't shut out the light. They hung the raw, red screen of their tiny vessels in front of me like a wound. I crawled between the mattress and the padded bedstead and let the mattress fall across me like a tombstone. It felt dark and safe under there, but the mattress was not heavy enough. It needed a ton more weight to make me sleep.

Approaching his cottage By crooked detour, He hears the gruff knocking Of the wolf at the door. His wife and his children Hang riddled with shot, There's a hex on the cradle And death in the pot.

The shadow in my mind lengthened with the night blotting out our half of the world, and beyond it; the whole globe seemed sunk in darkness.

My hours are married to shadow. No longer do I listen for the scrape of a keel On the blank stones of the landing.

But talking about it hypothetically is grim:

It will be dark, And the shine of these small things sweeter than the face of Ishtar.

That being free. What would the dark Do without fevers to eat? What would the light Do without eyes to knife, what would he Do, do, do without me.

Not this troublous Wringing of hands, this dark Ceiling without a star.

146 Stars Over the Dordogne Stars are dropping thick as stones into the twiggy Picket of trees whose silhouette is darker Than the dark of the sky because it is quite starless. The woods are a well. The stars drop silently. They seem large, yet they drop, and no gap is visible. Nor do they send up fires where they fall Or any signal of distress or anxiousness. They are eaten immediately by the pines.

I shall move north. I shall move into a long blackness. I see myself as a shadow, neither man nor woman, Neither a woman, happy to be like a man, nor a man Blunt and flat enough to feel no lack. I feel a lack. I hold my fingers up, ten white pickets. See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.

He pipes a world of snakes, Of sways and coilings, from the snake-rooted bottom Of his mind. (...)

The brilliance of morning is in sharp contrast with the darkness of night - Woman thou art loosed

Things may need to stay in the darkness for some time. There is power in darkness: the power of gestation, deep dreaming, and the sweetness of night. However, sometimes darkness obscures our vision, making it difficult to see some of our very important parts. And sometimes darkness is a messy closet into which we shove things we can't quite get rid of, but don't know how to use anymore.

Descend lower, descend only Into the world of perpetual solitude, World not world, but that which is not world, Internal darkness, deprivation And destitution of all property, Desiccation of the world of sense, Evacuation of the world of fancy, Inoperancy of the world of spirit;

O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark, The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant