Quotes About Shadows

We walked in wisdom with our shadows, in search of the dead part of ourselves, which would be our shelter.

The sky lay over the city like a map showing the strata of things and the big full moon toppled over in a furrow like the abandoned wheel of a gun carriage on a sunset field of battle and the shadows walked like cats and I looked into the white and ghostly interior of things and thought of you and I looked on their structural outsides and thought of you and was lonesome.

Something in me vibrates to a dusky, dreamy smell of dying moons and shadows.

Man stands in his own shadow and wonders why it's dark.

Now that we were mothers we were all shadows of our former selves, chased by the women we used to be before we had children.

There's a sense in American cinema: you want to portray an ideal world. You want to portray a Utopia. That's good- dreams for a better world, to advocate for something better, yes. But if you look at my movies, they are exploring today's shadows.

The yellow moon dreamily tipping buttons of light down among the leaves. Marimba, marimba - from beyond the black street. Somebody dancing, somebody getting the hell outta here. Shadows of cats weave round the treetrunks, the exposed knotty roots. ("Scenes from the Life of the Peppertrees")

There is a place called reality. It is a place where people use doors instead of windows. Where, when you click a sound is made not a flame. Where, a shadow is a thing created by the sun, not a weapon. Where, your reflection stays in the mirror. And where skeletons don't walk and talk. But you can escape this place. You just have to have one thing. Imagination.

There is a place called reality. It is a place where people use doors instead of windows. Where, when you click a sound is made not a flame. Where, a shadow is a thing created by the sun, not a weapon. Where, your reflection stats in the mirror. And where skeletons don't walk and talk. But you can escape this place. You just have to have one thing. Imagination.

The essence of darkness is the knowledge of what blocks the light.

the low sun white and cold, and full of worms. Then a fan of white, gelatinous rays, transparent tubes whose ends mouth the earth. A flat, white opening in the sky, whose light silvered the air, dotted with their shadows. They are the larvae of the sun and will become themselves stars.

Everyone wanted to get a better look at the princess. Her parents were used to interacting with their kingdom, but at eighteen, she had only recently been invited to join them on official outings. Truth be told, she still preferred to live life in the shadows, but duty called.

The late-afternoon sun was casting shadows that tip-toed along the walls

Truth be told, she still preferred to lve life in the shadows, but duty called.

It does not look good. Then again, few things do in the dead of night. The small dark hours are the undoing of many. Candlelight throws shadows on the walls of our souls, shadows that turn a mouse into a monster, a downturn into disaster.

By then I'd been watching shadow selves for many years. They'd rescued me from boredom, from sadness. From tables full of rich, awful people. They'd given depth to the shallow, dimensions to the simpleminded. Mystery to the blatant. They were my own secret project. But Z knew about them, too. He was looking for mine. A spy. Like me.

But it was not just that admirers had fled, she mused; her enemies were stepping out of the shadows to take their place.

The attic smelled like dust and mice. Piper was sure she could hear faint scuttling sounds off in the shadows, feel beady eyes upon her. She hoped it was only mice and not something larger, something more dangerous. Was it more than rustling? Was that faint breathing she heard coming from the darkest corner, the place where no light touched?

The tragedies we endure shape our lives: we carry them like shadows

At this hungry and thirsty and yearning hour, with the uneasiness of the dark and the inevitability of bedtime clutching at them, something more was needed than the spidery tunnels of the furze and broom, and the clay hollows of elders and watery pits of willow, full of lean shadows.

It was a house of shadows, where the sunshine was filtered down to a guttering night-light strength between the laths of the window-shutters. (89)

There's a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons- That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes- Heavenly Hurt, it gives us- We can find no scar, But internal difference, Where the Meanings, are- None may teach-Any- 'Tis the Seal Despair- An imperial affliction Sent us of the air- When it comes, the Landscape listens- Shadows-hold their breath- When it goes.'tis like the Distance On the look of Death-

Sweet hours have perished here; This is a mighty room; Within its precincts hopes have played,— Now shadows in the tomb.

Five strange fingers from fate's hand, Each plays its part at fate's command. The fiery blaze the answer keeps. And till its time each secret sleeps. When pain is truth and truth is pain, The painted shadows live again. Five leave, but five do not return. Vain hope and pride in terror burn.