Quotes About Candlelight

As a youth, I listened to the rain from the bowers of pleasure houses, Red silk drapes translucent in the glow of candlelight. In my prime, I listened to the rain as a traveler, The sky low, the river broad, the calls of the wild geese harsh and cold. Now, grey at the temples, I listen to the rain beneath the eaves of an abandoned cloister. Has mine been a futile life? I have no answers, only the sound of raindrops upon worn stone steps, And long hours yet to pass before the light of dawn.

She wanted to hold on to the rosy candlelight glow of romance, rather than have to deal with the bright, sometimes glaring day-to-day life with another person. And who could blame her?

When I was a kid, the miracles of my life were the Resurrection, a candlelight service on New Year's Eve, the Virgin Birth, and the Three Wise Men.

Some people ask the secret of our long marriage. We take time to go to a restaurant two times a week. A little candlelight, dinner, soft music and dancing. She goes Tuesdays, I go Fridays.

Women don't want all that. Women just want a partner who is considerate and attentive, who will spoon with them while reciting Keats, and feed them organic yogurt by candlelight on a seaside cliff at sunset.

Sometimes it whispers. If you stand too close to it, right there on the edge where the candlelight is swallowed by shadow, the darkness talks to you in a voice not its own—a voice you've probably heard before. A lover. A parent. A friend.

Oh, thrice romantic Master, don't you want to stroll with your beloved by day under the cherries bursting into bloom, and int he evenings listen to Schubert's music? Won't it be pleasant for you to write with a quill by candlelight? Don't you want to sit, like Faust, over a retort, hoping to create a new homunculus?

Mircea must have heard us come in, but he continued what he was doing. He stood with his back to us, the candlelight on his bare skin causing his muscles to fall into sharp relief. He'd washed the river gunk out of his hair and now he threw it back, the water droplets shimmering in the light. The scene looked for all the world like a really good romance novel cover.

The thought of facing Owen Winter's satyr smile by candlelight was chilling.

Emotions would be half starved if there were no candle-light.

He admired her so much that he used to light the candle three times a night to look at her.

The rain still continued, the candlelight falling upon the nearest drops and making glistening darts of them as they descended across the throng of invisible ones behind. To plunge into that medium was to plunge into water slightly diluted with air.

Hannibal stared steadily by candlelight at the faces sketched from his dreams and tried to make their mouths move. Perhaps they would sing at first, and then say their names. Hannibal sang himself, to start them singing.

The flickering candlelight conspired with the silence, and we only interrupted each other's reading to share a casual delight.

Man loves company, even if it is only that of a smoldering candle.

Man loves company — even if it is only that of a small burning candle.

Seated face to face in complete relaxation, staring into each other's eyes and murmuring Sanskrit words that could send them all the way to nirvana but that generally had the opposite effect, and they would wind up slipping out of other people's sight, stretched out beneath the tall reeds in the garden, desperately making love; the books they had read by candlelight, drowning in passion and smoke...

We didn't have electricity when I was a kid. We had to watch TV by candlelight. No, that's a silly joke.

I love a little darkness at the table with just enough light from IKEA white candlesticks. Seriously! They look elegant but are simple and unscented and create mood lighting.

If it weren't for electricity we'd all be watching television by candlelight.

Reading books by candlelight will make you blind." "I need the candlelight to see the words, ser." "Do you want a clout in the ear?

Reading books by candlelight will make you blind.

But logic ignores the more-or-less as absolutely as the sun ignores the candlelight.

She had taken him for granted, she thought with surprise and shame, watching the flickering candlelight. She had assumed his kindness was so natural and so innate, she had never asked herself whether it cost him any effort. Any effort to stand between Will and the world, protecting each of them from the other. Any effort to accept the loss of his family with equanimity. Any effort to remain cheerful and calm in the face of his own dying.