Quotes About Light

Love shows itself more in adversity than in prosperity; as light does, which shines most where the place is darkest.

Love carries through many difficulties easily and makes heavy burdens light.

Lord, make my life A window for Your light To shine through And a mirror to reflect Your love To all I meet. Amen.

Let not the hours pass by in the dark. Kindle the lamp of love with thy life.

What we call evil is the absence of Light, of love, in all cases.

And thou hast stolen a jewel, Death! Shall light thy dark up like a Star. A Beacon kindling from afar Our light of love and fainting faith.

The Light of the Christ within now wipes out all fear, doubt, anger and resentment. God's love pours through me, an irresistible magnetic current. I see only perfection and draw to me my own.

The light of unconditional love awakens the dormant seed potentials of the soul.

We aren't bodies at all; who we are is the love inside us, and it is that love alone that determines our value. When our minds are filled with light, there is no room for darkness.

O Music! language of the soul, Of love, of God to man; Bright beam from heaven thrilling, That lightens sorrow's weight.

Love is the greatest light, the brightest torch, and will always be the greatest instrument of change.

Luis Barragan: simple, geometric, rectangular forms, walls with bright colours, shafts of light. Tadao Ando: natural light and contexts, zen-like experiences. Friedensreich Hundertwasser: human, in harmony with nature. Rafael Moneo: simple geometric massing, masonry. Glenn Murcutt: minimalist, vernacular. Kengo Kuma: traditional aesthetics, natural materials.

[Christ] does not give [men] light but from moment to moment; the instant He withdraws, all is darkness.... God does not give them a stock of holiness.

I'm attracted to the extreme light and the extreme dark. I'm interested in the human condition and what makes people tick. I'm interested in the things people try to hide.

We emerged into the afternoon light dazed and emotionally spent.

do not let whatever happened with that foolish family next door dim your light. You are a courageous, gorgeous, tremendously kind little creature and I shall be forever grateful that their loss has been my gain. Thank you.

I looked up through gritty eyes and there it was across the Brooklyn Bridge, Manhattan, shining like a million jagged shards of light, awe-inspiring, glossy, impossibly condensed and beautiful, a sight that was so familiar from television and films that I couldn't quite accept I was seeing it for real.

Outside, the last of the light had long been extinguished. The snow was still falling. Where it caught the porch glow through the window it was bathed in a pale-gold, melancholy light. We sat there in peaceful silence, watching its hypnotic descent.

The only light came from the windows of those houses she passed that had open curtains, revealing little tableaux of family life: the young couple prostrate on a sofa in front of the television, their small child playing on the floor; the solitary old lady reading the paper; the table set for tea, while an unwatched television cast an aurora borealis of moving shadows in the corner.

If there is a worm in the heart, & chamber it has bitten out, I will protect that emptiness until it is large enough. In it will be a light the color of steel & landscape, into which the traveler might set out.

Ordinarily, when the great oak doors groaned open and someone entered Prat Library there would be a burst of sunlight, a bright harsh intrusion on the dim and quiet. But when Oriana Jeffers came through the doors, the light transmuted into moonbeams and star-shimmer, and all the books on the shelves fluttered awake. Oh joy, they whispered, a READER.

It makes me feel primitive, rooted, connected to the dirt of the earth and the light of the stars, a spun thread pulled across the span of generations.

It made me feel primitive, rooted, connected to the dirt of the earth and the light of the stars, a spun thread pulled across the span of generations.

And in the attic, if she had managed to find her way up the steep and crumbling steps, she would have found the one room left open to the light, she would have stood, breathless, picking cobwebs from her fingers and her face, staring at a whole meadow of wildflowers and grasses, poppies and oxeyes and flowering coriander, all flourishing in bird droppings and all lunging pointedly towards the one square foot of available sky.