Walking In The Dark Quotes

Walking in the dark, seeing lovers do their thing. That's the time, I feel like making love to you. ~ Roberta Flack

Most of us, no matter what we say, are walking in the dark, whistling in the dark. Nobody knows what is going to happen to him from one moment to the next, or how one will bear it. This is irreducible. And it's true of everybody. Now, it is true that the nature of society is to create, among its citizens, an illusion of safety; but it is also absolutely true that the safety is always necessarily an illusion. Artists are here to disturb the peace. ~ James Baldwin

Walking in the dark streets of Seoul under the almost full moon. Lost for the last two hours. Finishing a loaf of bread and worried about the curfew. I have not spoken for three days and I am thinking, Why not just settle for love? Why not just settle for love instead? ~ Jack Gilbert

Parmida had never believed in unicorns, not until a stroll through the forests of Sunneth Dol convinced her otherwise. She was a young human woman living in a world where magick was dead and magickal creatures a myth. Elves and fae and magickal beasts had long ago shed their skin and left their bones. It was a world where humans alone now existed, walking in the dark of night, always looking over their shoulder for their inevitable extinction, as if nature were waiting to absorb them next back into her soil. ~ Ash Gray

Art has to be a kind of confession. I don't mean a true confession in the sense of that dreary magazine. The effort it seems to me, is: if you can examine and face your life, you can discover the terms with which you are connected to other lives, and they can discover them, too - the terms with which they are connected to other people. This has happened to every one of us, I'm sure. You read something which you thought only happened to you, and you discovered it happened 100 years ago to Dostoyevsky. This is a very great liberation for the suffering, struggling person, who always thinks that they are alone. This is why art is important. Art would not be important if life were not important, and life is important. Most of us, no matter what we say, are walking in the dark, whistling in the dark. Nobody knows what is going to happen to them from one moment to the next, or how one will bear it. This is irreducible. And it's true for everybody. Now, it is true that the nature of society is to create, among its citizens, an illusion of safety; but it is also absolutely true that the safety is always necessarily an illusion. Artists are here to disturb the peace. They have to disturb the peace. Otherwise, chaos. ~ James Baldwin

Oh,' the priest said, 'that's another thing altogether - God is love. I don't say the heart doesn't feel a taste of it, but what a taste. The smallest glass of love mixed with a pint pot of ditch-water. We wouldn't recognize that love. It might even look like hate. It would be enough to scare us - God's love. It set fire to a bush in the desert, didn't it, and smashed open graves and set the dead walking in the dark. Oh, a man like me would run a mile to get away if he felt that love around. ~ Graham Greene

I had expected that at some point during the first draft a light would go on, and I would understand, finally, how to write a book. This never happened. The process was akin to blindly walking in the dark, feeling my way only by touch, and only recognising dead ends when I smacked into them. ~ Hannah Kent

Faith says not, 'I see that it is good for me, so God must have sent it,' but, 'God sent it, and so it must be good for me.' Faith, walking in the dark with God, only prays Him to clasp its hand more closely. ~ Phillips Brooks

And in my head, a person who was out walking and walking in the dark comes to a little house with a light on. Waits at the door for a moment, and then goes in. Finds such a welcome that she stays. ~ Elizabeth Berg

The dark is a quiet place. Reflection and contemplation are the only things to do in it. Well that, and imagine the worst things possible.
I don't have to reflect or contemplate or any of those things. I know what the worst things possible are. I know about the things that hide in the dark. Insanity is the least of them. ~ Tara Brown

I find I'm not one of these composers that are, you know, walking along a beach or walking on the mountainside in County Donegal that's, you know, 'Oh, a melody.' It's more a matter of eventually taking that moment with me to the studio, and it begins to evolve. ~ Enya

Sleeping Wrestler

You are a murderer
No you are not, but really a wrestler
Either way it's just the same
For from the ring of your entangled body
Clean as leather, lustful as a lily
Will nail me down
On your stout neck like a column, like a pillar of tendons
The thoughtful forehead
(In fact, it's thinking nothing)
When the forehead slowly moves and closes the heavy eyelids
Inside, a dark forest awakens
A forest of red parrots
Seven almonds and grape leaves
At the end of the forest a vine
Covers the house where two boys
Lie in each others arms: I'm one of them, you the other
In the house, melancholy and terrible anxiety
Outside the keyhole, a sunset
Dyed with the blood of the beautiful bullfighter Escamillo
Scorched by the sunset, headlong, headfirst
Falling, falling, a gymnast
If you're going to open your eyes, nows the time, wrestler ~ Mutsuo Takahashi

If, then, to meanest mariners, and renegades and castaways, I shall hereafter ascribe high qualities, though dark; weave round them tragic graces; if even the most mournful, perchance the most abased, among them all, shall at times lift himself to the exalted mounts; if I shall touch that workman's arm with some ethereal light; if I shall spread a rainbow over his disastrous set of sun; then against all mortal critics bear me out in it, thou just Spirit of Equality, which hast spread one royal mantle of humanity over all my kind! Bear me out in it, thou great Democratic God! who didst not refuse to the swart convict Bunyan, the pale poetic pearl; Thou who didst clothe with doubly hammered leaves of finest gold, the stumped and paupered arm of old Cervantes; Thou who didst pick up Andrew Jackson from the pebbles; who didst hurl him upon a war horse; who didst thunder him higher than a throne! Thou who, in all thy mighty, earthly marchings, ever cullest Thy selectest champions from the kingly commons; bear me out in it, O God! ~ Herman Melville

The mother sings a hungry song
Of blood and cracking teeth
She dances in the dark below
wants to pull us underneath

Her claws, they rise, they sway in dance
to the melody of screams
Her lullaby will never end
till the world comes apart at the seams ~ Amy Lukavics

I just saw a girl who said she saw John Lennon walking down the street in New York wearing a button that said, "I love Paul." She asked him: "Why are you wearing an 'I love Paul' button?", and he said: "Because I love Paul. ~ Harry Nilsson

It is all around us, hidden in plain sight. It is walking our streets, supplying shops and supermarkets, working in fields, factories or nail bars, trapped in brothels or cowering behind the curtains in an ordinary street: slavery. ~ Theresa May

After another hour in the dark and stuffy gym, I saw my dad appear in the doorway. He gave a little wave, like he showed up at my school every day to take me home after alien attacks. ~ Rick Yancey

We labor under the fatal delusion that no disease can be cured without medicine. This has been responsible for more mischief to mankind than any other evil ... Disease increases in proportion to the increase to the number of doctors in a place. ~ Mahatma Gandhi

She danced with complete abandon. She never felt so light and free. She could stretch her arms forever, touch the heavens and pull down the stars. She would give him the stars to keep in his pocket, she thought. They would bring him good luck. She jumped and laughed and drew giggles from some of the other girls. She felt high, though she never before experienced a drug high. But then what was she thinking? He was her drug, and she felt high on the dark, rich honey. Honey that matched the color of his eyes. She could drink him to overflowing and never be satisfied. She was filled with the honey even now; it coursed through her limbs - a powerful, exotic, demanding potion that ordered her to dance. And so she did. She danced. ~ S. Walden

Flowers bloom in spring
Oh, the sky spreads in summer
They're engraved and sparkling
In my heart

Rain falls in the morning
Even on a day when I shut the window
The light overflowing to my chest
Is from above the clouds

Joy and sorrow
I hold everything close while I'm walking
They're things that firmly join
My hand
And your hand together

Autumn is at the waterside
Winter lurks at the treetop
There's a boundless kindness
Deep in the world

Every time when night comes
Let's offer a prayer
Let's quietly greet
The day to come tomorrow

Oh, a voice calling out from far, far away
Guides me
As if it smiles
As if it sings
The sound of wind echoes

Joy and sorrow
I hold everything close while I'm walking
They're things that firmly join
My hand
And your hand together ~ Kobato

I've always just had sort of a dark take on life, I suppose, and hopefully, the music transcends that in a way. ~ Jenny Lewis

I have one word to say upon the subject of profound writers, who are grown very numerous of late; and I know very well the judicious world is resolved to list me in that number. I conceive therefore, as to the business of being profound, that it is with writers as with wells; a person with good eyes may see to the bottom of the deepest, provided any water be there; and often, when there is nothing in the world at the bottom, besides dryness and dirt, though it be but a yard and half under ground, it shall pass however for wondrous deep, upon no wiser a reason than because it is wondrous dark. ~ Jonathan Swift

His eyes turn dark and serious. "You couldn't be more wrong. I want you so fucking badly that I can't see straight. I haven't been able to since the moment I laid eyes on you. That's the fucking problem. You think I wanted her more than I do you? I didn't want her at all. I wanted you then and every day before and every day since. All I want is you. I was holding back just now - and trust me, it's been taking every ounce of strength I have to do so - because you deserve better than me feeling you up in an elevator." He runs his thumb over my lower lip, his eyes darkening further. ~ Samantha Towle

I lean back and tilt my head so all I see are the clouds in the sky. I'm looking back inside my head with my eyes wide open. I still don't know where I'm going; I decided I'm not crazy or alien. It's just that I'm more like one of those kids they find in remote jungles or forests []. A wolf child. And they've dragged me into this fucking schizo-culture, snarling and spitting and walking around on curled knuckles. ~ David Wojnarowicz

So many synapses,' Drisana said. 'Ten trillion synapses in the cortex alone.'
Danlo made a fist and asked, 'What do the synapses look like?'
'They're modelled as points of light. Ten trillion points of light.' She didn't explain how neurotransmitters diffuse across the synapses, causing the individual neurons to fire. Danlo knew nothing of chemistry or electricity. Instead, she tried to give him some idea of how the heaume's computer stored and imprinted language. 'The computer remembers the synapse configuration of other brains, brains that hold a particular language. This memory is a simulation of that language. And then in your brain, Danlo, select synapses are excited directly and strengthened. The computer speeds up the synapses' natural evolution.'
Danlo tapped the bridge of his nose; his eyes were dark and intent upon a certain sequence of thought. 'The synapses are not allowed to grow naturally, yes?'
'Certainly not. Otherwise imprinting would be impossible.'
'And the synapse configuration – this is really the learning, the essence of another's mind, yes?'
'Yes, Danlo.'
'And not just the learning – isn't this so? You imply that anything in the mind of another could be imprinted in my mind?'
'Almost anything.'
'What about dreams? Could dreams be imprinted?'
'Certainly.'
'And nightmares?'
Drisana squeezed his hand and reassured him. 'No one would imprint a nightmare into another.'
'But it is possible, yes? ~ David Zindell

[in regards to Chad's Nifty Over Fifty Moustache and Beard Darkener] "'Dark Bravado Blonde, Number 143.' The name alone makes my loins all aquiver."
Amber ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz

For a brief, weird minute I felt like Dorothy in Oz, walking down the street with Terric the doubtful, Shame the brainless, and heartless Zay. ~ Devon Monk

I realized I had no friends. Besides, even if I had had, I shouldn't be any better off. If I had been able to commit suicide and then see their reaction, why, then the game would have been worth the candle. But the earth is dark, cher ami, the coffin thick, and the shroud opaque, The eyes of the soul - to be sure - if there is a soul and it has eyes! But you see, we're not sure, we can't be sure. Otherwise, there would be a solution; at least one could get oneself taken seriously. Men are never convinced of your reasons, of your sincerity, of the seriousness of your sufferings, except by your death. So long as you are alive, your case is doubtful; you have a right only to their skepticism. So if there were the least certainty that one could enjoy the show, it would be worth proving to them what they are unwilling to believe and thus amazing them. But you kill yourself and what does it matter whether or not they believe you? You are not there to see their amazement and their contrition (fleeting at best), to witness, according to every man's dream, your own funeral. In order to cease being a doubtful case, one has to cease being, that is all. Besides, isn't it better thus? We would suffer too much from their indifference. ~ Albert Camus

In music I still prefer the minor key, and in printing I like the light coming from the dark. I like pictures that surmount the darkness, and many of my photographs are that way. It is the way I see photographically. For practical reasons, I think it looks better in print too. ~ W. Eugene Smith

As much depended on the priest's willingness to listen to his imploring cry, a leprous Israelite would often go up to the spot whence he could call on him desponding or fearful. And the priest, however willing, might be busy so as not to be able to come at once. As, with most wistful eye, the man gazes on the living, cheerful camp, he sees one and another meet the priest and pour some message or entreaty into his ear - so that the priest is detained, and hurried away to this and that part of the camp, while the trembling, weary leper waits at the gate. In this we see that our high priest hath the pre-eminence - never too busy - never unwilling - never unable. "He waits that he may be gracious." (Isa. 30.18). Neither the business nor the bliss of heaven will detain him from a wretched soul. He who in the days of his flesh forgot to eat, and even ceased to feel faintness, when a soul stood before him in his leprosy, has nothing now to keep him from instant compassion. He who on the cross, under the dark shade of the approaching cloud of wrath and of death, heard the heaving of his mother's bosom and the rush of anguish through her heart - has nothing now to hinder him freely to direct his ever ready compassions towards the coming leper. Even as this is true in regard to those already come, so also is it to the coming. ~ Andrew A. Bonar

We should at least stay for the sunset," Mike suggested. "There's nothing like a Pacific sunset. Would you like that?" "I would. Do you think I should call Jack? Let him know?" Mike shrugged. "I don't know what kind of arrangement you two have. Would he be worried if you're not home before dark?" Remembering her brother's dark mood in the morning, the way he'd tried to warn her off Mike, she almost said that Jack would be especially worried tonight. But instead she said, "As a courtesy, I'll give him a call. I'm really having too much fun to go back yet." He touched her cheek with the back of a knuckle. "Are you, Brie?" he asked softly. "You don't have to ask." She smiled. "There's ~ Robyn Carr

Secrets create dark spaces within a relationship," she said. "When one person keeps secrets, the other person fills in the dark spaces with their fears and insecurities. ~ Lauren Rowe

Thought I saw you on the beach this morning...Thought I saw you standing on the white strand, your back to the wind. The rain had stopped and there was a brisk clarity in the air. You watched me over your left shoulder, head tucked in coyly. Seabirds flying low in the sky, and the grey-green waves at your foot. A whole panorama thrown up behind you.

I was on the coast road coming back from the shops. I stopped walking once I caught sight of you. You were wearing a reefer jacket with the collar turned up against the weather. It might have been navy, but it looked black in the distance. As did your trousers. As did your shoes. All of you was black except your face and hair. You wore no hat...Never once saw you in Winter clothes, yet there you were as clear as day for a whole moment. Only your eyes were visible above the upturned collar. Your hair was in your eyes. You watched me through those pale strands. And I watched you. Intently.

The man from down the road drove by in his faded red car. He was going the other way, so he didn't offer a lift. He just waved. I waved back. And then I turned to you again, and we looked at each other a little longer. Very calm. Heart barely shifted. Too far away to see your features. No matter. There was salt on your face. Sea salt. It was in your hair. It was on your mouth. It was all over you, as though you gazed at me through ice. And it was all over me. It tingled on my skin.

After a time I moved off, and you ~ Claire Kilroy

The Poem About Taking out the Trash

In the vast emptiness of darkness,
Stars are being born and are burning out;
Galaxies expand, into what I have no idea,
And dark matter fills the infinite space
That has no bounds and no limits.
In the middle of all this, I stand
In a single moment and know how small I am.
A group of atoms, the size of nothing in comparison.
I am the observer of the play on a tiny stage.
The onlooker who watches the painting
Of a picture that few stop to see.
The listener of a song where I hear only a fraction
Of a fraction of a note in a song that will be forever sung
And that has been being sung for eternity upon eternity,
Before I knew breath and sound.
I am but dust, stardust, a breath of a life, smoke
Rising into oblivion, here then gone as quickly.
Under all of this, I take out the trash. ~ Eric Overby

But I'm not any better at relationships than you are. We'll find our way together, even if we're fumbling around in the dark for a while. ~ Christine Feehan

In a futile attempt to erase our past, we deprive the community of our healing gift. If we conceal our wounds out of fear and shame, our inner darkness can neither be illuminated nor become a light for others. ~ Brennan Manning

His sister. His de'lai. A girl he'd never met until a few months ago, and yet had somehow always known. Brave in a way he'd never been. Dark and bloodstained and scarred to the bone. She had every reason in the world to be nothing but rage and hatred and misery. But he knew, as much as she tried to hide it, she hadn't let life turn her cold. She loved with a heart as fierce as lions. Gave in a way that left her bleeding, but never broken. Because even with all she'd lost, all she'd sacrificed, all the hurt heaped upon her shoulders, she'd still come back.
She still came back for me.
He could feel it, burning out in that storm of rage and shadows. The love she felt for him. Too bright to smother, even beneath the power of a god. ~ Jay Kristoff

Sometimes back then, fishing with Jasper up the Sulphur, I hit my limit. I mean it felt my heart might just burst. Bursting is different than breaking. Like there is no way to contain how beautiful. Not it either, not just beauty. Something about how I fit. This little bend of smooth stones, the leaning cliffs. The smell of spruce. The small cutthroat making quiet rings in the black water of a pool. And no need to thank even. Just be. Just fish. Just walk up the creek, get dark, get cold, it is all a piece. Of me somehow. ~ Peter Heller

Her kiss didn't sweep away the dark anguish he felt in his heart. Instead, it embraced it. It acknowledged it. ~ Courtney Milan