Quotes About Darkness

That night, slipping among us like a snake, quick and silent and flickering, the plague began.

The thought was this: that all my life had been murk and depths, but I was not a part of that dark water. I was a creature within.

Und wie lautete dieser Gedanke? Dass mein ganzes Leben bisher aus trüben und tiefen Wassern bestanden hatte, aber dass ich nicht Teil dieser dunklen Fluten war. Ich war ein Geschöpf, das darin lebte.

La pena creció en mi interior hasta que estuvo a punto de ahogarme. «Su muerte». Solo de pensarlo me sentía morir, caía en picado a través de un cielo absolutamente negro.

In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood, like a hundred golden urns pouring out the sun.

For like Phoinix I am declared already, decided. I am no longer to guide the course, merely to be carried into darkness and beyond, with only Achilles' hands at the helm.

Hayat?m çamurdan ve derinlikten olu?uyordu ama ben o karanl?k sular?n bir parças? de?ildim. O sular?n içindeki bir varl?kt?m

Doua umbre se intind in bezna una spre cealalta, in amurgul ce s-a lasat greu, fara speranta. Cand li se intalnesc mainile, se revarsa potop de lumina, ca o suta de urne de aur revarsandu-se din soare.

Here, when you looked into darkness, there was God.

Such an archetypal experience of sunrise is common to us all, throughout the history of all times and ages. The soul has a desire for light and an irrepressible urge to rise out of primal darkness. The moment in which light comes is God – it brings redemption, release.

130. We cannot read the darkness. We cannot read it. It is a form of madness, albeit a common one, that we try.

She asks him quietly in the dark to tell her about the mother of everything and he did not know of whom she was speaking. She asked the volcano and the volcano belched great streams of wet ash. She lay her head down with fatigue and found her head on a pillow of ink. Upon waking she stretched her arms around the glob and found her fingers weren't even close to touching.

According to Dionysius, the Divine Darkness appears dark only because it is so dazzlingly bright-- a paradox I have attempted to understand by looking directly at the sun and noticing the dark spot that flowers at its center. But as compelling as this paradox, or this experiment, may be, I am not as interested in it as I am the fact that in Christian iconography, this "dazzling darkness" appears with startling regularity as blue.

If a color could deliver hope, does it follow that it could also bring despair?

We cannot read the darkness. We cannot read it. It is a form of madness, albeit a common one, that we try.

On April 20, 1970, the poet Paul Celan left his home in Paris, walked to a bridge over the River Seine, and jumped to his death. He left a biography of Hölderlin open on his desk, with the following words underlined: "Sometimes this genius goes dark and sinks down into the bitter well of his heart." The sentence does not end there. Celan chose not to underline the rest: "but mostly his apocalyptic star glitters wondrously.

Then again, perhaps [depression] does feel like a fire -- the blue core of it, not the theatrical orange crackling. I have spent a lot of time staring at the core in my own "dark chamber," and I can testify that is provides an excellent example of how blue gives way to darkness -- and then how, without warning, the darkness grows up into a cone of light.

Nonetheless, as Billie Holiday knew, it remains the case that to see blue in deeper and deeper saturation is eventually to move toward darkness.

Can she help it if the unconscious is a sewer?

It may be tonight, in the deepest dark, because that is the most dangerous time for the sick.

And I say to myself: a moon will rise from my darkness.

The past is a dark house, and we have only torches with dying batteries. It's probably best not to spend too much time in there in case the rotten floor gives way beneath our feet.

he became aware of an entire world of the spirit about which he had been taught nothing in the seminary and which seemed to flourish as the dark underside of life in his beloved New York.

I think we're all a little afraid of the dark. If you lived in the country, as I did, there's nothing quite like country dark, which was really black. And as a child, your imagination runs wild.