Dark Roses Quotes

I have loved you from the moment you opened your eyes, and I will continue to love you long after I close mine. I will always be yours Aurora. I don't exist without you. ~ Nathalie Saade

Rush-hour on the A rain. A blind man
staggers forth, his cane tapping lightly
own the aisle. He leans against the door,

raises a violin to chin, and says I'm sorry
to bother you, folks. But please. Just listen.
And it kills me, the word sorry. As if something like music

should be forgiven. He nuzzles into the wood like a lover,
inhales, and at the first slow stroke, the crescendo
seeps through our skin like warm water, we

who have nothing but destinations, who dream of light
but descend into the mouths of tunnels, searching.
Beads of sweat fall from his brow, making dark roses

on the instrument. His head swooning to each chord
exhaled through the hollow torso. The woman beside me
has put down her book, closed her eyes, the baby

has stopped crying, the cop has sat down, and I know
this train is too fast for dreaming, that these iron jaws
will always open to swallow a smile already lost.

How insufficient the memory, to fail before death.
how will hear these notes when the train slides
into the yard, the lights turned out, and the song

lingers with breaths rising from empty seats?
I know I am too human to praise what is fading.
But for now, I just want to listen as the train fills

completely with warm water, and we are all
swimming slowly toward the man with Mozart
flowing from his hands ~ Ocean Vuong

When i see ahead,its dark, when i see behind, its dark. It's only my present which is bright, thus darkening everything beyond and behind. ~ Kunal Narayan Uniyal

In the meantime the strike is over, with a remarkably low loss of life. All is quiet, they report, all is quiet.
In the deserted harbour there is yet water that laps against the quays. In the dark and silent forest there is a leaf that falls. Behind the polished panelling the white ant eats away the wood. Nothing is ever quiet, except for fools. ~ Alan Paton

Dennis, please. I don't know what-"
"Shut the fuck up, and stop playing me for an idiot. And secondly, and more importantly, I've unearthed some disturbing information about you which I want to discuss in more detail before I fill you with holes. ~ Simon Kernick

There are so many demons. Agnes tips the bottle back and her eyes flutter closed, and she swallows, and swallows again, and the burn of it tells her it will be okay, that everything will be just fine, because the burn is always followed by the dark, and the dark is followed by - Peace. Or something very much like it. She drinks, and eventually her grip loosens on the bottle, and she slips into that dark where Esmerelda, where Eleanor, where nobody else is permitted. ~ Jason Gurley

It is a terrible thing, this kindess that human beings do not lose. Terrible, because when we are finally naked in the dark and cold, it is all we have. We who are so rich, so full of strength, we end up with that small change. We have nothing else to give. ~ Ursula K. Le Guin

Gareth sucked in a breath. Hyacinth's brother wasn't going to make this easy on him. But that didn't matter. He had vowed to do this right, and he would not be cowed.

He looked up, meeting the viscount's dark eyes with steady purpose. "I would like to marry Hyacinth," he said. And then, because the viscount did not say anything, because he didn't even move, Gareth added, "Er, if she'll have me."

And then about eight things happened at once. Or perhaps there were merely two or three, and it just seemed like eight, because it was all so unexpected.

First, the viscount exhaled, although that did seem to understate the case. It was more of a sigh, actually - a huge, tired, heartfelt sigh that made the man positively deflate in front of Gareth. Which was astonishing. Gareth had seen the viscount on many occasions and was quite familiar with his reputation. This was not a man who sagged or groaned.

His lips seemed to move through the whole thing, too, and if Gareth were a more suspicious man, he would have thought that the viscount had said, "Thank you, Lord."

Combined with the heavenward tilt of the viscount's eyes, it did seem the most likely translation.

And then, just as Gareth was taking all of this in, Lord Bridgerton let the palms of his hands fall against the desk with surprising force, and he looked Gareth squarely in the eye as he said, "Oh, she'll have you. She will definitely have you."

It wasn ~ Julia Quinn

I see a very dark cloud on America's horizon, and that cloud is coming from Rome. ~ Abraham Lincoln

Afterglow"

Sunset is always disturbing
whether theatrical or muted,
but still more disturbing
is that last desperate glow
that turns the plain to rust
when on the horizon nothing is left
of the pomp and clamor of the setting sun.
How hard holding on to that light, so tautly drawn
and different,
that hallucination which the human fear of the dark
imposes on space
and which ceases at once
the moment we realize its falsity,
the way a dream is broken
the moment the sleeper knows he is dreaming. ~ Jorge Luis Borges

My name it means nothing
my fortune is less
My future is shrouded in dark wilderness
Sunshine is far away, clouds linger on
Everything I posessed - Now they are gone
Oh where can I go to and what can I do?
Nothing can please me only thoughts are of you
You just laughed when I begged you to stay
I've not stopped crying since you went away
The world is a lonely place when you're on your own
Guess I will go home - sit down and moan.
Crying and thinking is all that I do
Memories I have remind me of you ~ Black Sabbath

At evening the autumnal forests resound
With deadly weapons, the golden plains
And blue lakes, above them the sun
Rolls more darkly by; night enfolds
The dying warriors, the wild lament
Of their broken mouths.
But in the grassy vale the spilled blood,
Red clouds in which an angry god lives,
Gathers softly, lunar coldness;
All roads lead to black decay.
Beneath the golden boughs of night and stars
The sister's shadow reels through the silent grove
To greet the ghosts of heroes, their bleeding heads;
And the dark flutes of autumn sound softly in the reeds.
O prouder sorrow! you brazen altars
Today an immense anguish feeds the mind's hot flame,
The unborn descendants. ~ Georg Trakl

The warrior (Zsadist) rolled his black eyes. Come on, man. What does it matter to me? You, Tohr. Britney Spears. ~ J.R. Ward

History is a yarn. And can I deny that what I wanted all along was not some golden nugget that history would at last yield up, but History itself: the Grand Narrative, the filler of vacuums, the dispeller of fears of the dark? ~ Graham Swift

I think, she began quietly, I think we want ... not just bread for our bellies. We want more than only bread. We want food for our hearts, our souls. We want- how to say it? We want, you know- Puccini music ... we want for our beautiful children some beauty. She leaned over and kissed the curl on her finger. We want roses ... ~ Katherine Paterson

Excuse me, sir." One the young officers put his hand up to stop them. "Are you Furious Barkley?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Is there a problem, officers?" Doug stepped in front of Furi.

"Damn straight there's a problem." Syn stepped inside the door, yanking his dark aviator glasses off his face. The scowl he wore told Furi this was not a pleasant coincidence. "Thanks guys, you can go."

Furi stood with his mouth hanging open while Syn dismissed the officers.

"Seriously, Starsky. You gonna track my boy down every time he leaves the house?" Doug said angrily, still blocking Furi.

"He's not your boy. And what I do regarding Furi is none of your goddamn business." Syn's clenched jaw made his words sound like an evil hiss. He shouldered past Doug and got directly in Furi's face. "When I've been calling him for over six hours and he hasn't picked up or returned any of my calls, I'll send a fuckin' SWAT team to find him if I want to."

Syn spun and pointed his finger in Doug's face, "That's my say, not yours." Syn's voice was rising with his growing temper, and all eyes were on them.

"Okay, let's get out of here." Furi pushed at both men, urging them out the door.

As soon as they were out in the brisk fall air, Syn rounded on Furi, pushing their chest together. "Where have you been, Furious? I've been going crazy trying to check on you, and you're sitting here casually eating pancakes," Syn growled.
< ~ A.E. Via

Perhaps I could best describe my experience of doing mathematics in terms of entering a dark mansion. You go into the first room and it's dark, completely dark. You stumble around, bumping into the furniture. Gradually, you learn where each piece of furniture is. And finally, after six months or so, you find the light switch and turn it on. Suddenly, it's all illuminated and you can see exactly where you were. Then you enter the next dark room ... ~ Andrew Wiles

When the moon was high over the moors, Rhineholt became a dark place with long, lonely corridors whose shadows gave breath to many secrets. ~ Amber Newberry

For though Death be a dark passage, it leads to immortality, and that is recompence enough for suffering of it. ~ William Penn

Crossing the floor, he grabbed Syn's hair and wrenched his head back. Blood poured from a cut above one eye and out of his nose and mouth. "Tell me where the chip is, rat."
"Still on the old block?"
Furious at yet another smart-ass retort, he kidney-punched him.
Tensing with the blow, Syn sucked his breath in between his bloodied teeth and grimaced. "Who taught you to hit? Your grandmother?" He narrowed that demented dark glare on him. "The only person you're going to scare with that is a three-year-old girl."
-Uriah & Syn ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

She exhaled, and then looked back to Nigel, who was still lying on the floor, moaning incoherently.
Simon looked down, too, and for several seconds they just stood there, staring at the unconscious man, until the girl said, "I really didn't hit him very hard."
"Maybe he's drunk."
She looked dubious. "Do you think? I smelled spirits on his breath, but I've never seen him drunk before."
Simon had nothing to add to that line of thought, so he just asked, "Well, what do you want to do?"
"I suppose we could just leave him here," she said, the expression in her dark eyes hesitant.
Simon thought that was an excellent idea, but it was obvious she wanted the idiot cared for in a more tender manner. And heaven help him, but he felt the strangest compulsion to make her happy.
"Here is what we're going to do," he said crisply, glad that his tone belied any of the odd tenderness he was feeling. "I am going to summon my carriage - "
"Oh, good," she interrupted. "I really didn't want to leave him here. It seemed rather cruel."
Simon thought it seemed rather generous considering the big oaf had nearly attacked her, but he kept that opinion to himself and instead continued on with his plan. "You will wait in the library while I'm gone."
"In the library? But - "
"In the library," he repeated firmly. "With the door shut. Do you really want to be discovered with Nigel's body should anyone happen to wander down this hallway?"
Julia Quinn

How do I know you'll keep your word?" asked Coraline.
"I swear it," said the other mother. "I swear it on my own mother's grave."
"Does she have a grave?" asked Coraline.
"Oh yes," said the other mother. "I put her in there myself. And when I found her trying to crawl out, I put her back. ~ Neil Gaiman

7. "Never rail at the storms, the furious winds, the biting frosts and snows...Bright days and dark days are both expressions of the great mystery. ~ Luther Standing Bear

In the murky puddle of rainwater collected at the entrance of the tomb, I spied my own reflection,a dark, hatted figure against a pewter sky. ~ Linda Lappin

All pleasure is a vice, for seeking pleasure is what everybody does in life, and the only dark vice is doing what everybody does. ~ Fernando Pessoa

Holly Black is the Real Thing: a gifted writer with a solid grounding in what matters. Her stories are dark and splendid blooms rising from roots sunk deep in myth and tradition. ~ Ellen Kushner

The light within us can always identify our mind's darkness ~ Munia Khan

The dark, cluttered, polished mahogany splendor of the Sanborns' Victorian drawing room. Mr. Sanborn wavered. Roark asked, his arm sweeping out at the room around them: Is this ~ Ayn Rand

All great beginnings start in the dark, when the moon greets you to a new day at midnight. ~ Shannon L. Alder

It was as if that day was so dark that my mind folded in on itself, protectively, the way a daisy will at night. ~ Bill Richardson

My parents were great readers of poetry and had a weakness for the light fantastic.'
'A pleasant change from the heavy dismal we suffer from everywhere today,' commented Winnie. ~ Miss Read

She never opened up a canyon in her soul and silently disappeared into the dark recesses. ~ Sherman Alexie

I may be partial to roses, but I am not a fragile flower ~ Renee Ahdieh

Not everyone is well-equipped to share your burden,
And it's OK . . .
Not everyone is receptive enough to bask in your light,
And it's OK . . .
Not everyone is psychic enough to understand your silence,
And it's OK . . .
Not everyone is crazy enough to associate with your passion,
And it's OK . . .
Not everyone is blessed enough to live your dreams,
And it's OK . . .
Not everyone is dark enough to cast in your nightmares,
And it's OK . . .
If everyone is meant to be a friend,
Why, then, does the word 'enemy' exist?
If everyone cares,
How, then, do you understand indifference?
Trying to make everyone 'see' the way you see just brings about enough heartbreak and conflict.
*The latter is absolutely necessary sometimes :D*
Even if you have to do so for a worthy cause, LOVE should be your watchword. ~ Ufuoma Apoki

Longche willed himself to change into his true vampire form. As the helpless vampire watched the transformation, it started screaming. It was still screaming when Longche's rows of razor-sharp teeth sank into its throat. It had been thousands of years since he had drunk the blood of vampires. With each creature he consumed, he could feel himself growing stronger.
Growing stronger - and growing closer to the Dark Mother, who was waiting to exact a terrible revenge upon him. ~ Alan Kinross

I was about to inhale the river when I noticed a faint green glow above me. Air? Radiation? Limeade? Any of those sounded better than drowning in the dark. I kicked upward. ~ Rick Riordan

Then he allowed himself to strike, like his childhood hero Allan Quatermain, off on that long slow underground stream which bore him on toward the interior of the dark continent where he hoped that he might find a permanent home, in a city where he could be accepted as a citizen, as a citizen without any pledge of faith, not the City of God or Marx, but the city called Peace of Mind. ~ Graham Greene

Rich colours actually look more luminous on a grey day, because they are seen against a somber background and seem to be burning with a lustre of their own. Against a dark sky all flowers look like fireworks. ~ G.K. Chesterton

Furious, the beast writhed and wriggled its iterated integrals beneath the King's polynomial blows, collapsed into an infinite series of indeterminate terms, then got back up by raising itself to the nth power, but the King so belabored it with differentials and partial derivatives that its Fourier coefficients all canceled out (see Riemann's Lemma), and in the ensuing confusion the constructors completely lost sight of both King and beast. So they took a break, stretched their legs, had a swig from the Leyden jug to bolster their strength, then went back to work and tried it again from the beginning, this time unleashing their entire arsenal of tensor matrices and grand canonical ensembles, attacking the problem with such fervor that the very paper began to smoke. The King rushed forward with all his cruel coordinates and mean values, stumbled into a dark forest of roots and logarithms, had to backtrack, then encountered the beast on a field of irrational numbers (F1) and smote it so grievously that it fell two decimal places and lost an epsilon, but the beast slid around an asymptote and hid in an n-dimensional orthogonal phase space, underwent expansion and came out, fuming factorially, and fell upon the King and hurt him passing sore. But the King, nothing daunted, put on his Markov chain mail and all his impervious parameters, took his increment Δk to infinity and dealt the beast a truly Boolean blow, sent it reeling through an x-axis and several brackets - but the beast ~ Stanisław Lem

In the quiet, and the dark, I got stronger. ~ Lauren Oliver

Her smile turned wicked. "And I'm not a silly girl to be blinded by a tidy posterior and expansive landholdings."
Tidy posterior and expansive landholdings? Was that the Dark Ages equivalent of a tight ass and a lot of money? ~ Kim Harrison

Miaow

Consider me.
I sit here like Tiberius,
inscrutable and grand.
I will let "I dare not"
wait upon "I would"
and bear the twangling
of your small guitar
because you are my owl
and foster me with milk.
Why wet my paw?
Just keep me in a bag
and no one knows the truth.
I am familiar with witches
and stand a better chance in hell than you
for I can dance on hot bricks,
leap your height
and land on all fours.
I am the servant of the Living God.
I worship in my way.
Look into these slit green stones
and follow your reflected lights
into the dark.

Michel, Duc de Montaigne, knew.
You don't play with me.
I play with you. ~ Mark Haddon

He paused, then, I behind him, arms locked around the powerful ribs, fingers caressing him. To lie with him, to lie with him, burning forgetful in the delicious animal fire. Locked first upright, thighs ground together, shuddering, mouth to mouth, breast to breast, legs enmeshed, then lying full length, with the good heavy weight of body upon body, arching, undulating, blind, growing together, force fighting force: to kill? To drive into burning dark of oblivion? To lose identity? Not love, this, quite. But something else rather. A refined hedonism. Hedonism: because of the blind sucking mouthing fingering quest for physical gratification. Refined: because of the desire to stimulate another in return, not being quite only concerned for self alone, but mostly so. An easy end to arguments on the mouth: a warm meeting of mouths, tongues quivering, licking, tasting. An easy substitute for bad slashing with angry hating teeth and nails and voice: the curious musical tempo of hands lifting under breasts, caressing throat, shoulders, knees, thighs. And giving up to the corrosive black whirlpool of mutual necessary destruction. - Once there is the first kiss, then the cycle becomes inevitable. Training, conditioning, make a hunger burn in breasts and secrete fluid in vagina, driving blindly for destruction. What is it but destruction? Some mystic desire to beat to sensual annihilation - to snuff out one's identity on the identity of the other - a mingling and mangling of identities? ~ Sylvia Plath

Some things just scrape my spine! ~ Brick Marlin

blind man in a dark room looking for a black cat that isn't there. ~ Thomas A. Harris