Explore Quotes on Dark

Dogs don't lie and why should I? Strangers come they growl and bark, they know their loved ones in the dark, Now let me, by night or day, Be just as full of truth as they.

O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark, The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant

Why is it called 'after dark' when it really is 'after light'?

I sometimes wonder if I might be a bit of a disappointment to people, because they are expecting all these '80s hits and what they get is a dark industrial wall of noise.

An ordinary mirror is silvered at the back but the window of the night train has darkness behind the glass. My face and the faces of other travellers were now mirrored on this darkness in a succession of stillnesses. Consider this, said the darkness: any motion at any speed is a succession of stillnesses; any section through an action will show just such a plane of stillness as this dark window in which your seeking face is mirrored. And in each plane of stillness is the moment of clarity that makes you responsible for what you do.

The abyss you stare into and that stares back at you is your reflection in the mirror - we all have it - that shadow self - that dark heart.

So to the lyre of Orpheus they struck with their oars, The furious water of the sea, and the surge broke into waves. Here and there the dark brine gushed with foam, Roaring terribly through the strength of the mighty men.

If your day is full of little mean, dark thoughts, is it any wonder you feel crabby? Maybe it's because you let your mind run wild like a dog putting its nose into garbage everywhere.

I love Blackpool. We're very similar. We both look better in the dark.

So dull and dark are the November days. The lazy mist high up the evening curled, And now the morn quite hides in smoke and haze; The place we occupy seems all the world.

In the dark room a cloud of yellow dust flew from beneath the tool like a scatter of sparks from under the hooves of a galloping horse. The twin wheels turned and hummed. Binet was smiling, his chin down, his nostrils distended. He seemed lost in the kind of happiness which, as a rule, accompanies only those mediocre occupations that tickle the intelligence with easy difficulties, and satisfy it with a sense of achievement beyond which there is nothing left for dreams to feed on.

We can think of descriptions almost as computer languages, an operative description that only deals with very simple operations. Its code is sex - Male, female, dark, light, up down, in out - its the language of duality.

The vineyard country, russet, reddish, carmine-brown in this season._x000D__x000D_A blue outline of hills above a fertile valley._x000D__x000D_It's warm as long as the sun does not set, in the shade cold returns._x000D__x000D_A strong sauna and then swimming in a pool surrounded by trees._x000D__x000D_Dark redwoods, transparent pale-leved birches._x000D__x000D_In their delicate network, a sliver of the moon._x000D__x000D_I describe this for I have learned to doubt philosophy_x000D__x000D_And the visible world is all that remains.

I heard a bird sing_x000D__x000D_In the dark of December_x000D__x000D_A magical thing_x000D__x000D_And sweet to remember._x000D__x000D_'We are nearer to Spring_x000D__x000D_Than we were in September,'_x000D__x000D_I heard a bird sing_x000D__x000D_In the dark of December.

I have sat here happy in the gardens, Watching the still pool and the reeds And the dark clouds. . . . But though I greatly delight In these and the water lilies, That which sets me nighest to weeping Is the rose and white colour of the smooth flag-stones, And the pale yellow grasses Among them.

There's a Mr. Hyde for every happy Jekyll face, a dark face on the other side of the mirror. The brain behind that face never heard of razors, prayers, or the logic of the universe. You turn the mirror sideways and see your face reflected with a sinister left-hand twist, half mad and half sane.

Actuality is when the lighthouse is dark between flashes: it is the instant between the ticks of the watch: it is a void interval slipping forever through time: the rupture between past and future: the gap at the poles of the revolving magnetic field, infinitesimally small but ultimately real. It is the interchronic pause when nothing is happening. It is the void between events.

Without a dream to light your way, the world is a very dark place.

God has wisely kept us in the dark concerning future events and reserved for himself the knowledge of them, that he may train us up in a dependence upon himself and a continued readiness for every event.

There is a road, no simple highway, between the dawn and the dark of night, and if you go, no one may follow, that path is for your steps alone.

Put light against light - you have nothing. Put dark against dark - you have nothing. It's the contrast of light and dark that each give the other one meaning.