Quotes About Darkness

Evil lives in a pit.

One half of the world glows with reflected sunlight. The other half is dark, speckled with little city lights.

The place felt sinister, though. Your imagination can get the better of you where a road ends against a forest.

Returning Late Past midnight, eluding tigers on the road, I return Home in mountain darkness. Family asleep inside. I watch the Northern Dipper drift low to the river, And Venus lofting huge into empty space, radiant. Holding a candle in the courtyard, I call for more Light. A gibbon in the gorge, startled, shrieks once. Old and tired, my hair white, I dance and sing out: Rickety cane, no sleep… Catch me if you can! Tu Fu

The world is quieter now. It is never quiet, but it can get quieter. What strange creatures we are, to find silence peaceful, when permanent silence is the thing we most dread. Nighttime is not that. Nighttime still rustles, still creaks and whispers and trembles in its throat. It is not darkness we fear, but our own helplessness within it. How merciful to have been granted the other senses.

Enlightenment is scary. Sometimes things look better in the dark.

It will affect me in ways I can't even begin to get my mind around. This day is a dark crater. There is no room for songs. The songs are wrong. Every song is wrong. And I don't know what to do without music.

I have spent years of my life sitting in my room, creating defenses of cynicism, darkness, and bleakness. Jed's friendship is the skeleton key to my fortress. He disarms me every time.

I've worn black today, because I've heard so often that it's supposed to be slimming. But instead I am this sphere of darkness submarining through the halls.

Everything is in its right place, and my heart wants to believe this can always be true. My heart wants to make it true, even as something darker tugs it away.

love sometimes causes you to do stupid things. And even when the lessons are clear to everyone else around you, sometimes you have a hard time seeing them yourself. When people say love is blink, they act like that's a good thing. But some people find their way around in the darkness a little better than others.

You were the sun, and I wasn't even the moon.

In a Town like Twin Peaks noone is innocent

We all have at least two sides. The world we live in is a world of opposites. And the trick is to reconcile those opposing things. I've always liked both sides. In order to appreciate one, you have to know the other. The more darkness you can gather up, the more light you can see too.

The simple explanations that are so frequently proffered to explain murder—poverty, pathology, parents, media violence—fail crashingly at getting to the heart of the darkness, the underlying architecture of the murdering mind.

True art was based upon despair, and the important thing was to make yourself and those around you as miserable as possible.

Like prisoners and shepherds, many of them didn't care who they had sex with, the idea being that what happens in the dark stays in the dark. It's the next morning you have to worry about—the name-calling, the slamming of doors, the charge that you somehow cast a spell.

It was, I thought, what evil must smell like.

You don't pock with the Dark Lord of the Sixth, Julian said.

You must learn one thing: the world was made to be free in. Give up all the other worlds except the one to which you belong. Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you.

Darkness dwells within even the best of us. In the worst of us, darkness not only dwells but reins.

None of us can ever save himself; we are the instruments of one another's salvation, and only by the hope that we give to others do we lift ourselves out of the darkness into light.

In real life during the last decade of the twentieth century, Rumpelstiltskin would probably get the queen's daughter. He would no doubt addict her to heroin, turn her out as a prostitute, confiscate her earnings, beat her for pleasure, hack her to pieces, and escape justice by claiming that society's intolerance for bad-tempered, evil-minded trolls had driven him temporarily insane.

On those occasions when he had killed in the dark, he later needed to see his victims' faces because, in some unlit corner of his heart, he half expected to find his own face looking up at him, ice-white and dead-eyed. Deep down, the dream-victim had said, You know that you're already dead yourself, burnt out inside. You realize that you have far more in common with your victims after you've killed them than before.