Through the night we drove in a tangle of waking and sleeping, nightmares from hell and holy white dreams.
I saw pearls in her mouth and the velvet cushion of her tongue and I heard the magic words come out of her.
When you have spent long years in the dark, there is joy in seeing the light and pleasure, above all, in the ordinary.
But there remained a reflective solitude behind that laughter, that nagging sense of completion that didn't sit well on the shoulders of a woman who had just begun to open her eyes to the wide world.
She counts the tiles on the cold bathroom floor lays her secrets out like stones square by square tile by tile she doesn't feel anymore.
She looks in the mirror seems vaguely familiar like steam on the glass shame covers her past the fog slithers down as evil surrounds.
He stopped and leaned against a pole and looked up at the deaf and swollen sky. It was a movement of dark shapes, a hurrying, a running. He closed his eyes. ("Hunger")
Vietnam...war...it did something to us. Or maybe not. Maybe the bad seeds were always in me, and war gave them a dark place in which to grow.
Walk with care in dark places, and do not put your faith in anyone who promises you the forgiveness of the Lord or a certain place in Paradise.
This is another dream, isn't it?" "Perceive it as you like. I've been trying to tell you things, but you're allowing the dark things-him-to invade your thoughts and feelings.
I'm dark matter. The universe inside of me is full of something, and science can't even shine a light on it. I feel like I'm mostly made of mysteries.
I wonder if that's how darkness wins, by convincing us to trap it inside ourselves, instead of emptying it out. I don't want it to win.
Madmen, criminals, and rapists! Isn’t it fantastic? All the romantic proposals I’ve ever got from anybody. Somebody up there has an extremely dark sense of humour.
I am anti-social and have a dark personality. I have no redeeming qualties and nothing to offer, therefore I could never have what I wanted
He’d stared into her eyes, dark with confusion and unwilling passion, and for one stark, horrible instant, he’d wished to be that different man. He’d wished to be worthy of her.
There is a certain kind of darkness that seeps into our lives if we are not actively engaged in creating light.
She couldn't turn away from the eyes that held her. Eyes as deep, as Dark as the night, yet there was something that sparked with warmth, that kept those eyes from being cold.
But water doesn't care for human sorrows. It flows without slowing or quickening its pace in the darkness of the earth, where only stones will hear.
...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'm out, surrounded in dark. But in the distance there is a small glow, a tiny light. Suddenly I'm standing alone, the space starting to brighten as the light grows.
A lady with a past has nothing to lose. But a woman with a future can't be too careful.
