Dark Quotes - Page 21

The dark night of the soul comes just before revelation.

After 'The Matrix,' I cannot wear sunglasses. As soon as I put them on, people recognize me.

On 139 and Lenox Ave there's a big park, and if you're soft don't go through it when it gets dark

I’m a black woman who is from Central Falls, Rhode Island. I’m dark skinned. I’m quirky. I’m shy. I’m strong. I’m guarded. I’m weak at times. I’m sensual. I’m not overtly sexual. I am so many things in so many ways and I will never see myself on screen. And the reason I will never see myself up on screen is because that does not translate with being black.

The light is the left hand of darkness.

Swift is the arrow, dark is the thorn, the slate is clean, the future awaits, awake.

Innocence, Once Lost, Can Never Be Regained. Darkness, Once Gazed Upon, Can Never Be Lost.

colleges being nothing but grooming schools for the middle-class non-identity which usually finds its perfect expression on the outskirts of the campus in rows of well-to-do houses with lawns and television sets in each living room with everybody looking at the same thing and thinking the same thing at the same time while the Japhies of the world go prowling in the wilderness to hear the voice crying in the wilderness, to find the ecstacy of the stars, to find the dark mysterious secret of the origin of faceless wonderless crapulous civilization.

If we could look through the skull into the brain of a consciously thinking person, and if the place of optimal excitability were luminous, then we should see playing over the cerebral surface, a bright spot with fantastic, waving borders constantly fluctuating in size and form, surrounded by a darkness more or less deep, covering the rest of the hemisphere.

I'm intrigued by the dark. Out of darkness comes creation.

Nothing beats a haunted moonlit night on All Hallows Eve.... And on this fatal night, at this witching time, the starless sky laments black and unmoving. The somber hues of an ominous, dark forest are suddenly illuminated under the emerging face of the full moon.

No matter what our personal circumstances may be, if we ourselves become a source of light, then there will be no darkness in the world.

One is always in the dark about one's own personality. One needs others to get to know oneself.

She had been wrong to think it wouldn't matter that much to him, yes,He took her for granted, of course he did , but he took her for granted - not like an old coat in the corner of a dark cupboard, as she'd put it to herself , but like the very air that he breathed .

Writing a first draft is like groping one's way into a dark room, or overhearing a faint conversation, or telling a joke whose punchline you've forgotten. As someone said, one writes mainly to rewrite, for rewriting and revising are how one's mind comes to inhabit the material fully.

There is no heaven or afterlife for broken down computers; that is a fairy story for people afraid of the dark.

I think it's almost an indulgence to focus on the dark side of things. And as you get older, you want to focus on the positive.

The thoughts of all men arise from the darkness. If you are the movement of your soul, and the cause of that movement precedes you, then how could you ever call your thoughts your own? How could you be anything other than a slave to the darkness that comes before?

The kingdom of God is just behind the darkness of closed eyes, and the first gate that opens to it is your peace.

I want to leave something behind when I go; some small legacy of truth, some word that will shine in a dark place.

I cannot remember a night so dark as to have hindered the coming day.

I regret those times when I've chosen the dark side. I've wasted enough time not being happy.

Your humble light the fire of your mind blinds you: If you walk with a lantern in the dark you won't see the stars.

You must read, you must persevere, you must sit up nights, you must inquire, and exert the utmost power of your mind. If one way does not lead to the desired meaning, take another; if obstacles arise, then still another; until, if your strength holds out, you will find that clear which at first looked dark.

The music enchanted the air. It was like the south wind, like a warm night, like swelling sails beneath the stars, completely and utterly unreal... It made everything spacious and colourful, the dark stream of life seemed pulsing in it; there were no burdens any more, no limits; there existed only glory and melody and love, so that one simply could not realize that, at the same time as this music was, outside there ruled poverty and torment and despair.