The space between the idea of something and its reality is always wide and deep and dark. The longer they are kept apart—idea of thing, reality of thing—the wider the width, the deeper the depth, the thicker and darker the darkness.
You're going to wake up one day, and you're gonna realize he's moved on. He'll quit trying to win you back. And you'll regret it. And if there's anything The Plague taught me, it's that there isn't time for regret anymore.
As for what it's against - the story is against those who pervert and misuse religion, or any other kind of doctrine with a holy book and a priesthood and an apparatus of power that wields unchallengeable authority, in order to dominate and suppress ...
Remember what I said when I led to Omar and the queen?" I bobbed my head, unable to look away from his jewel-like eyed, shining in the darkness...so much like Chorda's. "That was the lie. Good-bye, Lane," he said and then crept into the darkness.
Wish not for treasure you can hold, No gleaming jewels, bright and cold, For finer still than pearl or gold, The treasure of a tale well told...
I was wrong to insult you, and not only because you are my hosts. I am afraid that I mistook kindness for weakness. My apologies. I stand - only with your aid - profoundly corrected.
It was the soul of the machine, the ethological epicentre, the planetary ground zero of their commercial energy. I could almost feel it, shivering down like bomb-blasted rivers of glass from these undreaming towers of dark and light invading the snow...
We walked back the way we came, and even though it was dark there were no lights burning inside the houses. They were like people without hearts; raspberry tarts without the jam.
Now, can I help you with something? I’m new, but I’ll do my best to figure out how to get what you need.” … “That’s good to hear, Abby, since I need your breasts for a few minutes.
You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t care, Abby.” “I don’t.” She glared at him, so full of life she almost glowed. “You do.” He kissed the pouting lips lightly. “And I’m going to keep you.
Last month she’d read that a man’s connective tissue aligned horizontally with the skin, whereas a female’s went perpendicular—which was why women got lumpy cellulite and men didn’t. And doesn’t that totally prove that God is male?
I see I have this patience to wait it out, and the truth is no matter how dark I feel I would never take my own life, because when the darkness is over, then what a blessing is the feeblest ray of light!
We want to discover who we are without the burden of sight. It's easy to believe we are the same inside because we look so similar. Sanna says only in the dark can we know the truth, but I'm not so sure. Darkness conceals.
How did I not see it? Pain is everywhere. I'm just another sorry story. All these people wearing smiles, dragging themselves around--do they all know already? Do they realize how fast the world can change?
And that's just it. This is how it is. Always. To pay attention to things. People. It's too easy to fail other people. And the good-byes. You never have the time you think. It brings tears to my eyes. I blink them away.
Teach the ignorant as much as you can; society is culpable in not providing a free education for all and it must answer for the night which it produces. If the soul is left in darkness sins will be committed. The guilty one is not he who commits the ...
I carry their beauty inside the very soul of my being. Dark with shades of grey. White with storm clouds in the distance. Because of dad and mom, I am not afraid to dream of dark victories and black beauty. I'm not afraid to be in love with the night
But for a moment Dirk had a sense of inifinite loss and sadness that somewhere among the frenzy of information noise that daily rattled the lives of men he thought he might have heard a few notes that denoted the movements of gods.
There are some people you like immediately, some whom you think you might learn to like in the fullness of time, and some that you simply want to push away from you with a sharp stick.
His love with Lucy bled from his heart as he slipped into a dark despair— a melancholy that only she could sever with her chaste voice and tender kisses. Now in an unreachable darkness, a blindness took hold. A blood lust that would drive him mad f...
Celeste." Jack grinned. "How every appropriate. An angel sent from heaven to relieve my boredom." "An artist sent from France to paint your brother's estate," she retorted. "Touché'. In that case we should get down to business.
