I have moments of darkness, of anger, and moments of rage. They do creep up at the most inopportune times. Not to recognize that in my music would give people a sense of sainthood that I don't necessarily have or even want to have.
The artist one day falls through a hole in the brambles, and from that moment he is following the dark rapids of an underground river which may sometimes flow so near to the surface that the laughing picnic parties are heard above.
War stories deal in death. War illuminates love, while love is the greatest expression of hope, without which any story rings untrue to life. And to deny hope in a story about such darkness is to create false art.
Even if things were the same, people's perception of them might have been very different back then. The darkness of night was probably deeper then, so the moon must have been that much bigger and brighter.
Anything that smiles often needs to be reminded that the world is a cruel, dark place.
In the stillness of headstones, Darkness is my blanket. And forever is my song. In the arms if stone angels, I'm not afraid. Because finally and completely, I belong.
I dont hate it he thought, panting in the cold air, the iron New England dark; I dont. I dont! I dont hate it! I dont hate it!
Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine' -the Wisdom of our Creed is revealed through these words - 'We work in the Dark, to serve the Light. We are Assassins.' --Machiavelli
Maggie wasn't without her concerns, though. "What if he's crazy?" "Yeah, that's a definite possibility," he agreed. "What if he's not your type?" "Then we'll only hook up in dark places.
It was as simple as that - they met. As simple as only beautiful things can be beautiful, as only life-changing things, turning-point things, can be simple. ("For The Rest Of Her Life")
God created… light and dark, heaven and hell— science claims the same thing as religion, that the Big Bang created everything in the universe with an opposite. “Including matter itself, antimatter
You see, this would be a death by the imagination. And though the imagination feeds on phantoms, it needs a premise in reality to begin with. Then it can go on from there under its own power. ("Mind Over Murder")
It's true though: time moves in its own special way in the middle of the night," the bartender says, loudly striking a book match and lighting a cigarette. "You can't fight it.
Life is short and we have never too much time for gladdening the hearts of those who are traveling the dark journey with us. Oh, be swift to love, make haste to be kind.
Celaena?” Sam asked into the dark. “Should I worry about going to sleep?” She blinked, then laughed under her breath. At least Sam took her threats somewhat seriously.
Dave walked closer to me, his dark eyes combing my every move. "Do you always hold your guitar like that?" I dropped my pick. "Do you always shop at Hot Topic?
The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.
A man's subconscious self is not the ideal companion. It lurks for the greater part of his life in some dark den of its own, hidden away, and emerges only to taunt and deride and increase the misery of a miserable hour.
Later, when they would spend straight hours conversing in the dark, Jane would realize that Henry kissed the way he talked- his entire attention taut, focused, intensely hers.
It's easier to ignore all the bad shit in the light. Distract yourself with work and TV and other people. The dark is just... bad memories. Bad dreams. I don't like to be left alone with all that.
This would be...a book that would be a trapdoor down into some place dark. A place only you could go, alone, when you opened the cover. Because only books have that power.
