Quotes About Darkness

Death had no lips, but it was smiling

Sleep is a little death, dreams the whisperings of the Other, who would drag us all into his eternal night.

Your face looked like something Death brought with him in his suitcase.

The gloomy shade of death.

That one smooth black eye stared, and reflected in it I fancied I could see the cyclopeon city, and the endless column of the marching dead.

The night was starless and very dark. Without doubt, in the gloom some mighty angel was standing, with outstretched wings, awaiting the soul.

I think about all the people I wish could die instead of you.

Death walks among us

When darkness falls and eyes stay shutA chain of voices opens up.Let wax not wane give breath to death.p.s. Shhh" -Yvonne Woon(Dead Beautiful)

I don't want to die in darkness any thicker than this. I want to bring some kind of resolution in my life.

While death and darkness girdle meI grope for immortality.

Dark circles under my eyes sink deeper and deeper into my skull, in contrast to my pale skin there is an undeniable resemblance to a fresh corpse.

Liz Emerson held so much darkness within her that closing her eyes didn't make much a difference at all.

Mist lies over the river like the icy breath of winter angels. Darkness gathers round... and it is beautiful.Thank you for this life, this death, whatever it is you arethat makes us finally see.

You don't need a sad soul to feel the beauty of a dead graveJust stay with the pale moonwhen darkness wants the night to be brave

You know, darkness is a funny thing. Little by little, it creeps up on you and before you know it, you can't escape it

Death is a dark flower, its perfume heady and dangerous as it pulls you into its bosom.

Miranda was dark, like a midnight sky. But as she fell, her eyes shone like stars themselves.

This is the place where death rejoices to help those who live. It's written somewhere in every morgue I've ever been in. Nice way of looking at it, isn't it?

But death has taken root inside you and you know it will grow, like a cancer with a voice, from now until the day it consumes you whole.

Night gets its own way in the end. The torches go out, the fire burns down to its internal organs, and the hall is charcoal and darkness.His mind shrinks as the heat dies, a ticking ember.

I can see death and more death, till we are black and swollen with death.

I am going to be murdered.It wasn't any easier to face in the daytime.

What kind of dark, twisted mind preys on young women? I think it was Poe that said the death of a beautiful woman is the most poetical thing in the universe, and if that was true… I was John Milton.