You’re playing the creepy vibe a little hard,” I said. “Might as well go for broke, put on a black top hat and pipe in some organ music.
Fear gripped her like hands around the neck, the way it could only happen in an unfamiliar room in the pitch black of night.
Pictures ... flashed on her in sudden color, too much color, shocking color, the color that leaps out of black when lightning strikes at night.
The new race of warriors would be their hope, their salvation, their loves' destiny. But they too could be tainted. They too could be seduced by the black forces they had been created to fight against.
I must forget you forever; that kind face, beautiful smile and heartbreaking black eyes, I should have known that, angels are not made for humans.
...then the rushing Pequod, freighted with savages, and laden with fire, and burning a corpse, and plunging into that blackness of darkness, seemed the material counterpart of her monomaniac commander's soul.
I have seen the dark universe yawning Where the black planets roll without aim, Where they roll in their horror unheeded, Without knowledge, or lustre, or name.
Tonight the sky was utterly black. Perhaps there was no moon tonight—a lunar eclipse, a new moon. A new moon. I shivered, though I wasn't cold.
Just because I wear black and keep a private journal, that doesn't mean I'm going to blow up the school. Or terrorize mindless cheerleaders, for that matter.
The alcohol had the effect of making the black cloth blacker. This amused her; she had noted in her journal: "booze affects material as it does people.
All writers pen sad stories to garner sympathy, writing is after all for the abandoned of the society: the ink-leech, spewing black blood and sucking innocent souls.
Her love was decaffeinated, and mine wasn't. Her love was also black, and mine was creamy and sweet. How could she not want to drink it up?
I heard word Of bellied sailcloth, Creak of oars, And gold in Eastland. Then I smelled A smell remembered: Salt of spray And black-pitched boat's keel.
Because I see A rainstorm in June Just before the sun The black of night Just before the stars And, girl, I see your ghost Just before our dawn
A karate black belt would make a great blindfold on a kidnap victim, after you karate chop them into submission.
As a Black lesbian mother in an interracial marriage, there was usually some part of me guaranteed to offend everybody's comfortable prejudices of who I should be.
Outside, the sun shines. Inside, there’s only darkness. The blackness is hard to describe, as it’s more than symptoms. It’s a nothing that becomes everything there is. And what one sees is only a fraction of the trauma inflicted.
Do not tell me what I think you're going to or I swear to God, I'm going to fly to Brazil and go all black ops on this guy for cheating on you.
I died on a bitter cold night. Beneath a black sky and a bruised winter moon, I tried to fly, hoping my arms might act as wings.
We buy things we don't need with money we don't have to impress people we don't like.
The light lulls you into a false sense of security. But if the dark should come suddenly and silently, you’d stand out like black on night.
