Quotes About Light

Persistent tatters glowed orange and blue against a backdrop of stars, a vast, doomed displayed of color and light.

A strange twilight strangled the city's voice to desperate murmurs as every foot paused, every voice hushed, every eye lifted and quickly fell again, unable to bear the light of even a half-occluded sun.

When has the Light ever been gentle to innocence?

The light from the windows fell across Àine's alabaster profile like the glow from a fire. She turned and winked at me, her eyes liquid and lovely as a doe.

Kit took a deep breath, and walked into the light.

She shrugged. More muscles, more rippling. More sparkles, like glitter flowing in water under moving lights.

Lucifer was laughing, defending himself delightedly from the slender light wrapped figure who pressed him only tentatively.

Her light gold complexion was dusted in cobwebs of silver.

The radiant globes on their high wrought-iron towers were an advantage to the dark-adapted eye, if one could manage not to be dazzled. For the shadows between were cool and velvet, and a man-or something shaped like a man-in muffling black could vanish into them.

He raised his hands and froze there, still as an oil painting, poised like a man shielding his face from divine light.

You dress in shadows, brother, but there is starlight in your eyes.

His hair shone blue-black in ringlets and a ruddy light gleamed behind the windows of his eyes, as clear as water running over stones.

One of the things I'd noticed was that, in addition to all my weird new secondary senses relating to gravity and mass and so forth, my eyes were becoming better adopted to seeing under a variety of light conditions.

There is a thoughtfulness in her small nose and pointed chin that I am unused to seeing in the children of the Light.

The carved wood wore into his shoulder, a reassuring discomfort. He pressed himself against it, parting the bed curtains, and with his right eye saw the light of strength dimming from a man he used to fancy was his lover.

Lucifer's halo filled the grim little room with light, and he seemed suddenly more beautiful than ever. Something fragile and almost mortal, unreal, outlined against the sweating stone.

Curled tight as a caterpillar, his fingers laced through the bridle as if the touch of iron could ease his agony, he still flinched when the light struck his face.

The stone hushed my footsteps instead of ringing with them, and yet the sun shone from without them, golden as the walls.

Torches glittered and cast dancing shadows here and there, a confusion of greater and lesser lights, for there was really no darkness in any corner now.

Enormous morning, ponderous, meticulous; gray light streaking each bare branch, each single twig, along one side, making another tree, of glassy veins.

—Yesterday brought to today so lightly!(A yesterday I find almost impossible to lift.)

A window across the river caught the sun as if the miracle were working, on the wrong balcony.

I awoke with a renewed understanding of why it is wise to retire to bed come nightfall. For evil thoughts take strength from the dark, while hope thrives in the light.

The sun rose on a landscape still pale with the heat of the day before. There was no haze, but a sort of coppery burnish out of the air lit on flowing fields, rocks, the face of the one house and the cliff of limestone overhanging the river. The river gorge cut deep through the uplands. This light at this hour, so unfamiliar, brought into being a new world – painted, expectant, empty, intense.