Quotes About Light

All the way up the house the windows were open; light came diagonally from window to window through corner rooms. Two storeys up, she could have heard a curtain rustle, but the mansion piled itself up in silence over the Montmorencys' voices.

It was early still, the sky white, nude.

Inness painted from memory, which is to say that he didn't paint what he saw, but what he remembered. There's a difference. He believed memory was a lens to the soul. It's not the details that matter - the veins on a leaf, say- so much as the implied detail, such as the changing light, the wind, the lone peasant in the distance the sense that something else is going on, some deeper possibilitly ....

Without the light the beauty remains hidden," Gofrid said. "But it is always there.

She crossed herself and gazed at the windows, shedding rainbow colours on the chapel's stone floor. The light from these windows shone just the same as it had when Harry was alive; that had not changed. And she must go on the same too, unchanging, for even when the sun did not shine the colours in the glass still existed.

going anywhere," he said. "Sleep." He held and stroked her. Things could never be the same, but to be shown the light in the darkness was a wondrous gift from God and he was determined to follow it and find the path again.

Without the light the beauty remains hidden," Gofrid said. "But it is always there. Just like God's love, or a father's, or a mother's. Remember that, Alienor. You are loved, whether you see it or not.

He leaned over her, the sun behind his head making a halo of gold, his face lit by the reflections off the water.

I AM the violet flame     In action in me now I AM the violet flame     To Light alone I bow I AM the violet flame     In mighty cosmic power I AM the light of God     Shining every hour I AM the violet flame     Blazing like a sun I AM God's sacred power     Freeing every one

When you pray daily, you not only help yourself but you also help people you don't even know. The angels are looking for people who regularly invoke God's light to be their partners in planetary healing. When they find these partners, they direct light through them to help those in danger from disease, violent crime or natural disaster. Thus your daily prayers can truly make a world of difference.

de las cumbres celestiales venid ángeles resplandecientes, ¡infundid luz a mi ser y mi mente!

Ascensión yo soy la luz de la Ascensión fluye libre la victoria aquí, todo lo Bueno ganado al fin por toda la eternidad. yo soy Luz, desvanecido todo peso en el aire ahora me elevo; con el pleno poder de Dios en el cielo mi canto de alabanza a todos expreso. ¡Salve! yo soy el Cristo Viviente, un ser de amor por siempre. ¡Ascendido ahora con el Poder de Dios yo soy un sol resplandeciente!

October sunshine bathed the park with such a melting light that it had the dimmed impressive look of a landscape by an old master.

you don't have to know just what people are doing and feeling to be of assistance to them. Your own life seems to you like a very small lighted room, with great darkness all around it, and you can't see out into the darkness and know what is happening there. But light and warmth from your room can go out into the darkness if you don't have the windows selfishly curtained, keep a brave fire burning, and light all the happy candles you can.

The storm had passed and the whole fen lay bathed in spent sunlight. Every stream and stretch of water among the rushes, which had been whipped and tormented by the storm, lay quiet now, reflecting the piled masses of white and silver clouds that floated like swans on the far deep pools of the sky. Every twig was strung with sparkling crystal drops, and every drop had a rainbow caught in its heart.

There were lights in the nave but they could do no more than splash pools of gold here and there, they could not illumine the shadows above or the dim unlighted chantries and half-seen tombs. The great pillars soared into darkness and the aisles narrowed to twilight. Candles twinkled in the choir and the high altar with its flowers was ablaze with them, but all the myriad flames were no more than seed pearls embroidered on a dark cloak.

If it were possible to escape from lonely experiences for a moment and stand back from the tree one would see the myriad bright worlds sparkling upon it. But only the greatest could do that. For all but the greatest their own experience was a prison house until the ending of the days. But one could know how bright was the light that carried all souls back to the light when for a moment one entered the world of a child.

You'd have to be so careful, more careful than we can even imagine, to keep that one spark alive. Because that's what kept you alive, in the cold and the dark.

Her earliest memory was of wings. Luminous red and blue, yellow and green and orange; a black so rich it appeared liquid, edible. They moved above her and the sunlight made them glow as though they were themselves made of light, fragments of another, brighter world falling to earth about her crib. Her tiny hands stretched upwards to grasp them but could not: they were too elusive, too radiant, too much of the air.

You see the same plain landscape day after day, and then one day, perhaps it's the play of light or the time of year, you find it beautiful and other landscapes at fault. So it must be with fashion. Ordinary judgement falls into abeyance and something else, some bewitchment, takes over. How else to explain the appeal of garments that in a few years look so ridiculous?

Overhead were ravens and lake gulls, all around were low hills made of the oldest rock in the world bathed by the most beautiful light on earth, and lovely miniature birches, and small flowers clinging and spreading.

I'll never look at you in any way but complete admiration." He stroked her hair soothingly. "You will never be a millstone about my neck. Rather you're the sunshine that brightens my day." He swallowed. "Don't you see? You brought me into the daylight. You've embraced parts of me that I was never able to let see light. Don't make me retreat again into the night. (Winter Makepeace)

When I was small, my mother told me that moths were butterflies that had been banished to the night, where they lived tortured lives dreaming of the day. In this way she explained why they sacrificed themselves to flame; it was both an end to their suffering and a reunion with the light they longed for. The parable, of course, was meant to warn me against wanting what I should not have.

The celestial brightness of Pride and Prejudice is unequalled even in Jane Austen's other work; after a life of much disappointment and grief, in which some people would have seen nothing but tedium and emptiness, she stepped forth as an author, breathing gaiety and youth, robed in dazzling light.