Who can love to walk in the dark? But providence doth often so dispose.
Love is the only game that is not called on account of darkness.
My darlings, if I can't write dark, epic music, I can't live!
Ash: Hail to the king, baby.
Stars Can't Shine Without Darkness
A certain darkness is needed to see the stars.
Light in comparison with darkness is a void.
Between me and you barriers abide and irresistible truths;how can I come out if not become the light that penetrates matter? In the shadows nothing exists except a burning flame to flow in the dreams.
Somewhere a bicycle bell rings. Somewhere else there's a war on. Somewhere else people turn to shadows and powder in an instant and the streets turn to funnels and light the sky with their burning. Somewhere a war is over.
Allow the light to fall across you. Shadow or sunlight. Allow it to define your shape. In its way. Another day it may be different. It surely will be. Are we ever the same? Is the light? And the way a form presses into the grass?
When you are old and gray and full of sleep And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep.
When you are old and grey and full of sleep And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep
Cats, no less liquid than their shadows, Offer no angles to the wind. They slip, diminished, neat, through loopholes Less than themselves.
The intermittent depression that had shadowed him throughout his adult life was about to envelop him once again.
Do you wrestle with dreams? Do you contend with shadows? Do you move in a kind of sleep? Time has slipped away. Your life is stolen. You tarried with trifles, Victim of your folly.
At night in the town's countryside, you could just about feel and hear everything, but without using lamps, it was impossible to see anything other than shadows
But it was fantasy, and she knew it. It was her fantasy, and the fantasy of everyone else who would look at her and at her pictures; and it would stop being real the moment the man with the camera stopped clicking.
With mouths agape, they stared in awe at the floor of fire and wall of flame. Atop a horse of golden flames that whipped and licked the leather reins, untouched by the fire that twisted and burned, sat Heimdallr, guardian of the Bilrost.
Paradoxically, in descending into the depths of the unconscious in order to deal with the prima materia of the shadow, we are simultaneously on the path of ascending to the truly real, as we become introduced to the higher-dimensional light worlds of...
But those who seek only reassurance from life will never be more than tourists—seeing everything and trying to possess what can only be felt. Beauty is the shadow of imperfection.
Freedom is based on the anarch’s awareness that he can kill himself. He carries this awareness around; it accompanies him like a shadow that he can conjure up. “A leap from this bridge will set me free.
