Quotes About Darkness

In tragedy and despair, when an endless night seems to have fallen, hope can be found in the realization taht the companion of night is not another night, that the companion of night is day, that darkness always gives way to light, and that death rules only half of creation, life the other half.

Maybe the devil in human beings isn't the reflection of the devil, perhaps the devil is only a reflection of the savagery and brutality of our kind. Maybe what we've done is create the devil in our own image

If she possessed any memory whatsoever of the days when she'd been whole, her shattered recollections were scattered across the darkscape of her mind in fragments so minuscule that she could no more easily piece them together than she could gather from the beach all the tiny chips of broken seashells, worn to polished flakes by ages of relentless tides, and reassemble them into their original architectures.

The whisper of the dusk is night shedding its husk.

like a scene from the swamps of Louisiana or the mind of Poe on opium.

In this world where too many are willing to see only the light that is visible, never the Light Invisible, we have a daily darkness that is night, and we encounter another darkness from time to time that is death, the deaths of those we love, but the third and most constant darkness is with us everyday, at all hours of every day, is the darkness of the mind, the pettiness and meanness and hatred, which we have invited into ourselves, and which we pay out with generous interest.

Sometimes it seemed that the human heart, this side of Eden, feared life more than death, light more than darkness, freedom more than surrender.

We are not, however, a species that can choose the baggage with which it must travel. In spite of our best intentions, we always find that we have brought along a suitcase or two of darkness, and misery.

The hard rain nailed the night to the city.

People scare me more than anything, for I know too well the savagery of which humankind is capable.

A silent dark...as black as a moonless lake, as a ravine's wings, darkness there and nothing more, merely this and nothing more...

When we don't allow ourselves to hope, we don't allow ourselves to have purpose. Without purpose, without meaning, life is dark. We've no light within, and we're just living to die.

Night has patterns that can be read less by the living than by the dead.

There's more to me than you see, another me down inside somewhere, full of hate, ready to hurt, cut, smash, or if maybe there's no Other and there's just me alone, then I'm not the person I thought I was, I'm something twisted and terrible, terrible.

Por qué tolerar la oscuridad? Todo ya está aquí y está claro si sabemos mirar con la atención debida.

For evil from within is but evil from within that has been let out

Una poetisa muerta de cáncer en su juventud había dicho en uno de sus poemas que para ella, en las noches de insomnio, la noche ofrece sapos, perros negros y cadáveres de ahogados

Las noches ofrecen sapos, perros negro y cadáveres de ahogados.

La luce della cabina si spense. A bordo, l'odore di pesce e salsedine si fece più intenso. Nel buio, scaldato dal tepore del corpo del ragazzo, diedi libero sfogo alle lacrime. La mia mente era ormai acqua limpida che scivolava via goccia a goccia, mentre a me restava solo il dolce piacere di ciò che finisce e non lascia più nulla.

In the darkness, warmed by the boy beside me, I gave myself up to my tears. It was as though my head had tumed to cleiir water, it was falling pleasantly away drop by drop; soon nothing would remain.

I've never been in those places where I've never been and never will be, I have no share in the infinity of light-years and dark-years, but the darkness is mine, and the light, and my time is my own.

She knows what it means. Oh, wonderfully bright at 6 a.m., yes, wonderfully clear for an hour . But the shorter the days, the longer the nights, the darker the house, the easier it is, the easier it is, the easier it is, to mistake a shadow for the writing on the wall, the sound of overland footsteps for the distant crack of thunder, and the midnight chime of a New Year clock for the bell that tolls the end of the world.

Life was an enormous rucksack so impossibly heavy that, even though it meant losing everything, it was infinitely easier to leave all baggage here on the roadside and walk into the blackness.

for the Owl there was something Infinitely Preferable About the Night. The Owl had difficulty explaining this to other birds.