Quotes About Light

A black hole sucks up its surroundings and even light never escapes. Better then to ask no questions? Better then to be a contented pig than an unhappy Socrates? Since factory farming is tougher on pigs than it is on philosophers I'll take a chance.

Written on the body is a secret code only visible in certain lights.

Shuttered like a fan no-one suspects your shoulder blades of wings. While you lay on your belly I kneaded the hard edges of your flight. You are a fallen angel but still as the angels are; body light as a dragonfly, great gold wings cut across the sun.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Hate multiplies hate, violence multiplies violence, and toughness multiplies toughness in a descending spiral of destruction." —Martin Luther King, Jr., "Strength to Love," 1963

Full to the brim with hope and love and joy, she watched the little light bulb shining like a promise in the night.

That's the city I see in my dreams, Poppy. It isn't like Ember at all. The sky is light and the buildings are tall and sort of sparkle. (Lina)

The rhythm of his steps said, Happy to be here, happy to be here. Rays of sunlight shot between the clouds, making spots of light like polka dots on the ground.

Poor old Venus didn't even make her own light, Dad said. She shone only from reflected light.

Dark is a way and light is a place, Heaven that never was Nor will be ever is always true —Dylan Thomas, 'Poem on His Birthday

I exist. It is soft, so soft, so slow. And light: it seems as though it suspends in the air. It moves.

The sun is not ridiculous, quite the contrary. On everything I like, on the rust of the construction girders, on the rotten boards of the fence, a miserly, uncertain light falls, like the look you give, after a sleepless night, on decisions made with enthusiasm the day before, on pages you have written in one spurt without crossing out a word.

I get up. I move through this pale light; I see it change beneath my hands and on the sleeves of my coat: I cannot describe how much it disgusts me.

The sun was clear and diaphanous like white win. Its light barely touched the moving figures, gave them no shadow, no relief: faces and hands made spots of pale gold.

I am illuminated within by a diminishing light.

Everything is silent again: but it isn't the same silence. It's raining: tapping lightly against the frosted glass windows; if there are any more masked children in the street, the rain is going to spoil their cardboard masks.

But the end is there, transforming everything. For us, the man is already the hero of the story. His moroseness, his money troubles are much more precious than ours, they are all gilded by the light of future passions.

Pretutindeni aceleaÅŸi strig?te de spaim? ÅŸi aceeaÅŸi harababur?, aceeaÅŸi goan? neagr? ÅŸi greoaie pe str?zile unde lumina îÅ£i ia ochii, pfiu! Str?zile astea pustii, aerul care tremur? ÅŸi soarele ?sta... Exist? ceva mai sinistru ca soarele?

Happiness and work rose up together with the sun, radiant like it.

With my ministry of light, part of what I do is work on the California Alliance For Arts Education.

Submit your work to interested societies for exhibition where the critics in the light of their physical well-being and according to the extent of their knowledge, may appraise them conveniently.

I live and work alone and travel light, relying largely on my memory and making a point of letting # intuition guide my way.

Light and subject is inseparable. But when it is well integrated, it becomes the work of a fine masterpiece.

Death is pitch-dark, but colors are light. To be a painter, one must work with rays of light.

Today, almost all-current technologies put the speed of light to work.