Quotes About Shadows

In the dark and the shadows where secrets lived, that was where Julian survived. It was how he had managed for years.

He gazed into the darkness at the flickering shadows. Above the tops of the trees on the opposite side of the river, he could see endless stretches of starlit sky. He longed for home where the plains stretched forever, where the wind sighed through the river canyons, sweet with the smell of grass and mesquite. If only his friends hadn't come across a mute yellow-hair and ridden to tell him.

Tonight he would build a fire so she couldn't hide in shadows, and he would learn every inch of her, slowly.

And my cases end like all stories end: with a sunset, and a kiss, and redemption, and iron shoes, and a sear of light from the shadows, a gun-muzzle flash that illuminates everything as the rain just keeps coming down in the motley, several-colored light of the back end of the world.

Shadows are where magic comes from. Your dark and dancing self, slipping behind and ahead and around, never quite looking at the sun.

Ancestors. Ghosts. Ghosts we're still married to even though we can't see so much as their shadows on the ground. We're no better than pieces on squares, in a game the past plays with the future.

The soul goes round upon a wheel of stars and all things return....Good and evil go round in a wheel that is one thing and not many. Do you not realise in your heart, do you not believe behind all your beliefs, that there is but one reality and we are its shadows and that all things are but aspects of one thing a centre where men melt into Man and Man into God 'No,' said Father Brown.

NOTTE Dl VENTO Allora sentii che non c'era, che non ci sarebbe mai più... La tenebra vidi più nera, più lugubre udii la bufera... uuh... uuuh... uuuh.. Venia come un volo di spetri, gridando ad ogni émpito più: un fragile squillo di vetri seguiva quelli ululi tetri... uuh... uuuh... uuuh.. Oh! solo nell'ombra che porta quei gridi... (chi passa laggiù?) Ohl solo nell'ombra già morta per sempre... (chi batte alla porta?) uuh... uuuh... uuuh...

Murky thoughts, like murky waters, can serve two purposes only: to hide what lies beneath, which is our ignorance, or to make the shallow seem deep

How was the light today?" "Big. Hot. Yellow-white. The sky's blue was like a drumbeat. I watched the black tree shadows revolve. When the sun went down it was like someone's hand was pulling it, very gently. It was soft-edged and orange. The land went purple, then dark blue and grey, then black. Then you opened your eyes.

Similarly, if you fill the frame with a dark subject, such as dark rock or a black bear, and use the exposure recommended by the meter, you will get a gray rock or gray bear.

Erinnerungen sind aus wundersamen Stoff gemacht – trügerisch und dennoch zwingend, mächtig und schattenhaft. Es ist kein Verlaß auf die Erinnerung, und dennoch gibt es keine Wirklichkeit außer der, die wir im Gedächtnis tragen.

You will find the blue hills... with the autumnal shadows silently sleeping on them, and there will be a glory lingering round the day, so you'll know autumn has been here; and the setting sun will tell you...

shorter days seem a little ominous shadows are becoming autumn'ish

It is an absolute fact that shadows are as much colours as lights are...

Kenneth Tynan: What is your major vice? Orson Welles: Accidia — the medieval Latin word for melancholy, and sloth. I don't give way to it for long, but it still comes lurching at me out of the shadows.

When the Sun sets, shadows, that shew'd at Noon But small, appear most long and terrible; So, when we think Fate hovers o'er our Heads, Our apprehensions shoot beyond all bounds, Owls, Ravens, Crickets seem the watch of death, Nature's worst Vermine scare her God-like Sons. Ecchoes the very leavings of a Voice, Grow babling Ghosts, and call us to our Graves: Each Mole-hill thought swells to a huge Olympus, While we fantastick Dreamers heave and puff, And sweat with an Imagination's weight...

They say that shadows of deceased ghosts Will haunt the houses and the graves about Of such whose life's lamp went untimely out, Delighting still in their forsaken hosts.

...Lost in your heart, lost in your eyes Lost every day, no map to follow Entire days, weeks, a blur Flickers of light, in the darkness, Only to be enveloped in shadows once more...

By the way, if you're ever conversing with an actual vampire, do not refer to the House of Shadows as Twilight Manor. There's a reason vampires aren't known for their senses of humour. If you accidentally do so, I'd say run, but it's probably already too late.

But Quintilius Rousse's sailors grinned in the saddle, saluting, and rode out in a thunder, horses trampling their own long shadows as they set their heads to the east.

Unrest and pain and sorrow are the shadows of life.

head; Yet heeds he not, for him they cannot slay Who stands whence earth and time and space are fled. Sheltered by deathless love, what fear hath he? Armored in changeless Truth, what can he know Of loss and gain? Knowing eternity, He moves not whilst the shadows come and go. Call him immortal, call him Truth and Light And splendor of prophetic majesty Who bideth thus amid the powers of night, Clothed with the glory of divinity.

The profusion of cherry lights, flashlights and headbeams darted over the lot, picking out details: mud puddles reflecting moonlight and shadows, the neon haze of Hollywood in the distance.