Best 5862 quotes in «dark quotes» category

The scraps of information she’d gathered knocked against each other, like balls in a pinball machine in one of the arcades on the front. Secrets drew her in every time – the unsaid.

These colorful polaroids Are like magical portals Leading to places, emotions, and people Who had slipped into the midst of the forgotten, Into the odd ether of willful omittance.

These were always the weirdest trips for me, when it was midnight or even later, and we pulled up to a dark house, trying to be quiet. Like a robbery in reverse, creeping around to leave something rather than take it.

The smell of tobacco usually reminded Mirabelle of being a child – coming downstairs in the morning when the dinner party her parents had hosted the night before was cleared away, but the scent of cigars still lingered.

The sky isn't the limit, your form is, but you can make it into something else to proceed in a different way. - The Malwatch

The spiders will always hatch out of the flowers. But now I like to think about the moments before, when they're just flowers, blooming, and they can be pinched closed, so all that prettiness last a little longer before the inevitable horror comes.

The studio was immense and gloomy, the sole light within it proceeding from a stove, around which the three were seated. Although they were bold, and of the age when men are most jovial, the conversation had taken, in spite of their efforts to the contrary, a reflection from the dull weather without, and their jokes and frivolity were soon exhausted. In addition to the light which issued from the crannies in the stove, there was another emitted from a bowl of spirits, which was ceaselessly stirred by one of the young men, as he poured from an antique silver ladle some of the flaming spirit into the quaint old glasses from which the students drank. The blue flame of the spirit lighted up in a wild and fantastic manner the surrounding objects in the room, so that the heads of old prophets, of satyrs, or Madonnas, clothed in the same ghastly hue, seemed to move and to dance along the walls like a fantastic procession of the dead; and the vast room, which in the day time sparkled with the creations of genius, seemed now, in its alternate darkness and sulphuric light, to be peopled with its dreams. Each time also that the silver spoon agitated the liquid, strange shadows traced themselves along the walls, hideous and of fantastic form. Unearthly tints spread also upon the hangings of the studio, from the old bearded prophet of Michael Angelo to those eccentric caricatures which the artist had scrawled upon his walls, and which resembled an army of demons that one sees in a dream, or such as Goya has painted; whilst the lull and rise of the tempest without but added to the fantastic and nervous feeling which pervaded those within. Besides this, to add to the terror which was creeping over the three occupants of the room, each time that they looked at each other they appeared with faces of a blue tone, with eyes fixed and glittering like live embers, and with pale lips and sunken cheeks; but the most fearful object of all was that of a plaster mask taken from the face of an intimate friend but lately dead, which, hanging near the window, let the light from the spirit fall upon its face, turned three parts towards them, which gave it a strange, vivid, and mocking expression. All people have felt the influence of large and dark rooms, such as Hoffmann has portrayed and Rembrandt has painted; and all the world has experienced those wild and unaccountable terrors - panics without a cause - which seize on one like a spontaneous fever, at the sight of objects to which a stray glimpse of the moon or a feeble ray from a lamp gives a mysterious form; nay, all, we should imagine, have at some period of their lives found themselves by the side of a friend, in a dark and dismal chamber, listening to some wild story, which so enchains them, that although the mere lighting of a candle could put an end to their terror, they would not do so; so much need has the human heart of emotions, whether they be true or false. So it was upon the evening mentioned. The conversation of the three companions never took a direct line, but followed all the phases of their thoughts; sometimes it was light as the smoke which curled from their cigars, then for a moment fantastic as the flame of the burning spirit, and then again dark, lurid, and sombre as the smile which lit up the mask from their dead friend's face. At last the conversation ceased altogether, and the respiration of the smokers was the only sound heard; and their cigars glowed in the dark, like Will-of-the-wisps brooding o'er a stagnant pool. It was evident to them all, that the first who should break the silence, even if he spoke in jest, would cause in the hearts of the others a start and tremor, for each felt that he had almost unwittingly plunged into a ghastly reverie. ("The Dead Man's Story")

The stars stare back In that deep, Soul-shattering blackness And from the depths of existence Comes a cruel, icy wind Raising the hairs On the back of your neck And suddenly it feels Like you’re walking a tightrope Over that endless abyss On one sad, fraying, thin Violin string.

The tales are only as dark as the teller.

The stars fight against us.

The start point is the present and no matter where you start, you can go anywhere. The path may just be longer or shorter depending on where you are. - The Malwatch

The sun is up now, revealing all of us for what we really are. And it's fucking blinding.

The trap had a ghastly perfection

The unknown grayish mystifying forest was benumbed into frost-covered cold, and the tremendous pines towering above the dark marshy soil resembled a gathering of severe mute brothers from a forbidden ancient order worshiping forgotten gods no one had ever heard of outside of the world of secret occult visions.

The value of darkness can never be measured if you don’t break its cheap spell secretly treasured

The truth belongs not to the one who think they are most right, but to the one most willing to prove their truth is reliably predictive of future outcomes. - The Malwatch

The twilight seems invidious.It simply can’t let the sun hide away when darkness is just another name for night..

The woman who preaches has poison religion. Let the respectable ones go

The water in the pond inside my heart doesn't shine anymore. It has turned dark. Every ghost from my mind breaks all the barriers and take a dip there, making it darker. and every time it happens, my soul in the pond cries with pain.

The world has two faces : The day or the bright moment when we naturally stay alive (awake). The night or the dark moment when we naturally remain dead (sleep).

The world has been blind in the presence of artificial lights.They blame about the darkness in broad daylight.

The World is divided in to two, One is vibrant with colours and the other is drab and colourless..

The villains were always ugly in books and movies. Necessarily so, it seemed. Because if they were attractive—if their looks matched their charm and their cunning—they wouldn't only be dangerous. They would be irresistible.

The world needs great inspirers, to ignite the light in every soul.

They are a contrast to your own ideations, letting you see the shadows caused by their still rough edges. Without them, everything would just be a flat greyness. -The Malwatch

They're not going to arrest you,' Skulduggery said as they walked through the door. 'They might glare at you and say angry words, but they won't arrest you. Well, they might arrest you. There's a good chance they will. But the important thing is that I've done nothing wrong.' 'For once.

The words you say to this world in darkness, are the most honest

Things only ferment and fester in the dark.

The world pushes us with no mercy and when some push back the world points and cries EVIL

This love is like a dive under the ocean. When I first saw you I was fascinated by the extensiveness and you were so beautiful. I did not believe you were so deep that I went downstairs. I wanted to know and see what you have - in the depths, all the way down to darkness. Until I was slowly breathed but I wanted to continue. I visit your paradise peacefully and peacefully. The place where the problem is not heavy and I'm free. But as a dive in the sea, my air gradually decreased. I had to go up and assemble a new hope. That's when I'm dialing again I'm stronger, and I can see the depth of your mystery. The ocean will be ashamed of the depth of my love. With every sinking and flight in your abyss, I feel the light of the world even though my breathing is getting dramatic. As I have this love for you, every time I feel, I'm trying to stop myself coming back and coming back to the sea you built in my heart.

This man, whom I once thought of as a romantic hero, a brave shining white knight or the dark knight as he said. He’s not a hero; he’s a man with serious, deep emotional flaws, and he’s dragging me into the dark. Can I not guide him into the light? ~Anastasia

This pain, this terrible seeing-through that is in me now. It wasn't necessary. It is all pain, and it buys nothing. Gives birth to nothing. All in vain. All wasted. The older the world becomes, the more obvious it is. The bomb and the tortures in Algeria and the starving babies in the Congo. It gets bigger and darker. More and more suffering for more and more. And more and more in vain.

This piece of inked paper stands a colossus A monument to a string of moments once dear; The only surviving testament to a time When these background bridges remained unburned, Before they became so much unswept rubble.

This is it. This is how I always saw heaven, always by the sea, always by night, always in the dark.

Those who were afraid of the dark and always refused to throw themselves inside it. Never got to see and feel how beautiful it is, to meet and greet one's own demons.

Those words you left unsaid ; got rotten inside your head ...

Throughout the years I learned the good times must come to an end, all the bad times will get worse, and most recently I learned I have PTSD. I left a part of myself in that river, in that battlefield, in every tragedy. A couple thousand years of this and there is not much left. I never escaped that river. I am drowning in a sea of tragedy. A woman was standing in front of me. She smiled. “The psychiatrist is ready to see you.

Thoughts cannot be changed. They are the product of our experiences. But how we apply those thoughts to the world, and the actions we take based on the, can change the thoughts we have in the future. Don't attack yourself for how you think, decide how you will act with those thoughts in you head. - The Malwatch

Through the darkest hours of the night and through the dreamers realm I seek, Far beyond the starry sky and beyond galaxies I am free. Through the grimmest memories and past a seasons air I cannot breathe, Far beyond this mortal world in an afterlife we shall meet.

Thy dark eyes beckon me into the darkest nether world of dark galaxies and darker supernovas. Forever in darkness, I know no light! Thy darkness my dark-light!

Thunder erupted over head as I watched him go. I felt the rain start to hit my head, getting me soaked in an instant. Before he went into his house, he turned back one more time and looked at me with those sad eyes. “Looks like you have your storm.” And then he was gone, leaving me standing out in the rain.

Ti faccio passare io la voglia di guardarmi così», Charles gli ringhiò tra i capelli prima di scostarglieli dal volto. «Me ne sono accorto, sai? Di come mi guardi quando credi di non essere visto.» Oh, Dio! Doveva andarsene da lì. Sottrarsi a quelle braccia al più presto, prima di perdere il controllo del proprio corpo. Perché lo sentiva nei lombi, Dorian: il fuoco che Rochester accendeva in lui aveva già iniziato a gonfiargli le palle. La risposta gli uscì in un soffio, disperata. Una piccola, audace bugia. «Vi sbagliate.» «Ah, è così dunque? Hai il coraggio di dirmi che non è vero?» L'istante successivo avvertì qualcosa di duro premergli contro i glutei. Qualcosa di caldo e sfacciato, granitico. La sua erezione. Le labbra di Dorian si schiusero in un gemito sorpreso. L'aria uscì dai polmoni e l'eccitazione salì fino in gola, traditrice, spezzando voce e volontà. «Non…» “Non lo so.” «Non volevo. Non intendevo spiarvi.» «Ma l'hai fatto. Lo fai sempre.

Time For Tea.

Time and the bell have buried the day, The black cloud carries the sun away. Will the sunflower turn to us, will the clematis Stray down, bend to us; tendril and spray Clutch and cling? Chill Fingers of yew be curled Down on us? After the kingfisher's wing Has answered light to light, and is silent, the light is still At the still point of the turning world.

Time seemed to drag with dreamlike slowness, like a knife through cold honey, and the room took on a surreal golden sheen as if I was looking through that same jar of honey. Maybe at that moment, the sun shone just right though the grimy windows, but the woman, the shelves, the jars, everything in the room appeared in tones of gold and sepia, except for the painting behind the counter. From behind the shopkeeper's head, a fluorescent Mary and Jesus glared at me, their cartoon-like faces reproaching me for being there.

Time is the cruelest of physicians, healing All wounds, but always slowly, looping A surgical needle through the mind’s flesh, experiencing Torment again over again, repeating Until anesthetics bring an end to feeling.

Time which destroys everything, even time itself...

Time will sweep us away, but our words will remain long after we settle into the dark.

To be a hero is to become a paradox. The very act of wanting to be a hero implies that you wish danger upon others, for one cannot be a hero without needing someone to save.

To be a hero is to become a paradox. The very act of wanting to be a hero implies that you wish danger upon others, for one cannot be a hero with needing someone to save.