Quotes About Illumination

Knowledge is grateful to the understanding, as light to the eyes.

Always the laws of light are the same, but the modes and degrees of seeing vary.

I seek and search for the light of knowledge.

All you need to know about the light is in being in the dark.

The essence of darkness is the knowledge of what blocks the light.

Knowledge is the first step of enlightenment

The light of genius never sets, but sheds itself upon other faces, in different hues of splendor. Homer glows in the softened beauty of Virgil, and Spenser revives in the decorated learning of Gray.

There are two kinds of light - the glow that illuminates, and the glare that obscures.

The First Amendment has the same role in my life as a citizen and a writer as the sun has in our ecosystem.

The light at dusk was a low blaze, a brightness.

People thought lights deterred criminals, but unless someone was watching, lights only made it easier to navigate unfamiliar terrain.

Was it a tiny shifting spiral of light?

And me still not seeing, and the brightness coiled within me assumed an almost hushed quality, as if we were in a cathedral.

With any major decision there are cautions and considerations to make, but once there has been illumination, beware the temptation to retreat from a good thing. If it was right when you prayed about it and trusted it and lived for it, it is right now.

The ballroom of Royal Academy might be the most magnificent sight I've ever seen. The enormous room is lit entirely by clouds of fireflies that float near the ceiling. Flowers crawl down the walls like ivy, while dozens of beautiful potted trees give the room the illusion of an enchanted forest.

There is no great trick to doing research," Ogilvy later observed. "The problem is to get people to use it—particularly when the research reveals that you have been making mistakes." Most people, he found, had "a tendency to use research as a drunkard uses a lamppost—for support, not for illumination.

There was no finer woman than Andrea Gray, and she belonged to Sean. "Sean!" A white light blinded him. Damn, wasn't it enough that Wade had them cowed without the man beaming light in his eyes?

Come on you raver, you seer of visions, come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine...

And it was only as he rose from the bed, his body illuminated by the colored lights of the city, that I caught the glint of calculation behind his eyes, a cold, blank set to his face. His shadow self, and not a nice one.

In this season of growing darkness, I wonder how we as Christians choose to publicize the miracle we proclaim. If it is not leading to greater illumination—to a greater light—we might want to rethink how we're doing it. How can we name the miracle, not as a simple fix, but as an abiding truth?

It's as if we have lamps but won't plug them in because our ancestors believed electricity was spirit-made. Having lost belief in spirits, we sit in the dark. There's no need. We have holidays and rituals, crafted like tungsten and glass for glowing. We have poems that buzz with electric charge. Let's plug them in.

His eyes I saw too. Large and profound, they seemed to increase in depth as the dark fell on them, then to resurface as the lighthouse beam caught them again, as if symbolising in rapid sequence the constant recurrence of night and day.

I could see every pebble on the path, and every blade of grass, by that splendid moon.

A tutti è dovuto il mattino, ad alcuni la notte. A solo pochi eletti la luce dell'aurora.