Quotes About Darkness

When we think about fairy tales, we think about happily ever afters, forgetting the darkness that stories beginning with "once upon a time" so often contain. I tried to protect Shay from that darkness. But there was no way to shield her from the truth: Life is not a fairy tale.

A fairy tale with a twisted ending, one in which the sun sets like napalm on the prince and princess as they walk off, sticky all over with fire.

Outside again, the river was invisible in the dark, but I could feel it swell and sink beneath the lawn as I ran back to the office, as if the earth were a membrane, a blister, filling up fast with water or blood, as if I were running across the back of a bruise, thinking it was the world.

She was afraid, too, frightened of what she found herself becoming. She felt that she was transforming into a malevolent black spider, hunched back in her crack, staring out at the world and despising everything and everyone for having what she did not.

She had thought Raymond handsome. But the Raven was something beyond handsome. Beyond gallant manners and teasing glances. He was like the old, old stories, like the unknown man who waited on a darkened hill, the mist around him, hand outstretched ... In the stories, if a woman went to him... she did not return. But she wanted to go ... She wanted.

Shakespeare's Iago could be played as a soul in hell, driven, dark and desperate, willing to do anything, willing to use anyone, in order to escape from that hell.

SOME PEOPLE PANIC AT DECEMBER'S DARKNESS, DESPAIRING to see the sun go down before they leave work. But Tess had always found comfort in the shorter days. The winter months gave her permission to relax. It was pleasant, cozy even, to sit in her office and feel the shadows encroach around her and her computer screen. On this particular afternoon, the ebbing light was at least a sign of progress. The

it feels like I've been thrown down a chute. I'm careening forward, trying not to get too banged up, utterly out of control of my descent, and somewhere in the dark, there's a hole waiting for me to fall through it.

La guerra, que resuena a lo lejos, me dice que hay una noche más oscura detrás de esta noche del patio.

Everybody loves a villain.

Despite the pain and the blood, Roza took in the icy-eyed man's expression of frozen, stony horror and reveled in it, delighted in it. It was delicious, his horror. She wanted to see it up close. She wanted to eat it.

She flew higher and higher into the plush and generous darkness, the long forgiving night, until she slipped through a star, a doorway, and heaven welcomed her in.

can change the experience of a Tuesday, as you stare out at the summer sky, the stars, and the fireflies punctuating the darkness like little adventures can punctuate time.

But when I looked for good, evil came; and when I waited for light, darkness came. My lyre is turned to mourning, and my pipe to the voice of those who weep. (Job)

There are only the three of us and our dark, burgeoning desires I am so afraid of what comes next

I would not willingly peel back the scar tissue protecting the deepest chambers of my heart and reveal the bruised hollows pooled with the blood of old wounds – the terror comes just thinking about it – but now, facing darkness I am left with no choice. I love you, and because of that am going to try and raise the dead. – Louise Bell Closson, How It Ends

Sometimes the monsters are real . . . Sometimes they're real and the only way to defeat them is to be the bigger monster.

Sometimes it's not the optimist you need, but another pessimist to walk beside you and know, absolutely know, that the sound in the dark is a monster, and it really is as bad as you think. Did that sound hopeless? It didn't feel hopeless. It felt reassuring. It felt - real.

Neither love nor evil conquers all, but evil cheats more.

Sometimes it's not the optimist you need, but another pessimist to walk beside you and know, absolutely know, that the sound in the dark is a monster, and it really is as bad as you think. Did that sound hopeless? It didn't feel hopeless. It felt reassuring. It felt - real.

Eve of Darkness is, well, sigh, really damned good. I can't wait for the next installment.

Because I know more and more that this glass here is so very dark, that this really is a long loneliness, that it is both lonely and long.

Maybe I'm dead. The thought is not as scary as it probably should be. I'm so calm, so comfortable. The coffin lining is soft beneath me, and it's fairly roomy; I'm touching the side with my right shoulder, but that's okay. I don't feel cramped. Of course, it's pitch-black, but that's strangely comforting. I roll over and realize there's a pillow under my head. How very nice of them to put a pillow in my coffin. Really thoughtful.

How do you describe emptiness? Is it the air inside a bubble, the darkness in a pocket, snow? I think, yes, I was six when or seven when I first felt it, the dwindling that is depression.