Best 5862 quotes in «dark quotes» category

How do you know the chosen ones? No greater love hath a man than he lay down his life for his brother. Not for millions, not for glory, not for fame... for one person. In the dark. Where no one will ever know or see.

However dark our lot may be, there is light enough on the other side of the cloud.

However dark the night, however dim our hopes, the light will always follow darkness.

How else could it have occurred to man to divide the cosmos, on the analogy of day and night, summer and winter, into a bright day-world and a dark night-world peopled with fabulous monsters, unless he had the prototype of such a division in himself, in the polarity between the conscious and the invisible and unknowable unconscious?

However, FDA attempted to reverse this clear congressional intent in March, 1979, by proposing to regulate vitamins and minerals as 'Over-The-Counter' drugs.

However dark and profitless, however painful and weary, existence may have become, life is not done, and our Christian character is not won, so long as God has anything left for us to suffer, or anything left for us to do.

However, one new theory says that dark matter may be ordinary matter in a parallel universe. If a galaxy is hovering above in another dimension, we would not be able to see it. It would be invisible, yet we would feel its gravity. Hence, it might explain dark matter.

However much I may be impressed by the difference between a star and the dark space around it, I must not forget that I can see the two only in relation to each other, and that this relation is inseparable.

However smothered under former negligence, or scattered through the dull, dark mass of common thoughts - let thy genius rise as the sun from chaos.

How fragile we are under the sheltering sky. Behind the sheltering sky is a vast dark universe, and we're just so small.

How?" I had seen it with my own eyes, but I still didn't believe it. Then something struck me. "Take off your shirt!" "I'm not that kind of guy!" He frowned thoughtfully. "On second thought, why not?" I blushed angrily and looked at Raquel. "What is he? I don't see anything!" "He's not 'anything'.Just a talented boy." "Then how did he make a door? How did he get through the Paths?" "Wait,so am I allowed to put my shirt back on? Or did you want me to remove my pants,too?" Lend and I joined forces in a dark glare. "Only if you want me to vomit," I snapped.

How it infuriates a bigot, when he is forced to drag out his dark convictions!

How I will cherish you then, you grief-torn nights! Had I only received you, inconsolable sisters, on more abject knees, only buried myself with more abandon in your loosened hair. How we waste our afflictions! We study them, stare out beyond them into bleak continuance, hoping to glimpse some end. Whereas they're really our wintering foliage, our dark greens of meaning, one of the seasons of the clandestine year -- ; not only a season --: they're site, settlement, shelter, soil, abode.

How happily, said Austerlitz, have I sat over a book in the deepening twilight until I could no longer make out the words and my mind began to wander, and how secure have I felt seated at the desk in my house in the dark night, just watching the tip of my pencil in the lamplight following its shadow, as if of its own accord and with perfect fidelity, while that shadow moved regularly from left to right, line by line, over the ruled paper.

How I hated the dark part of me that continually foretold of failure or futility.

How long the thick dark clouds can prevent the truth from shining? The truth is an arrow that can pass through any shield!

How lovely the little river is, with its dark changing wavelets! It seems to me like a living companion while I wander along the bank, and listen to its low, placid voice.

How many voices have escaped you until now, the venting furnace, the floorboards underfoot, the steady accusations of the clock numbering the minutes no one will mark. The terrible clarity this moment brings, the useless insight, the unbroken dark.

How many a knot of mystery and misunderstanding would be untied by one word spoken in simple and confiding truth of heart! How many a solitary place would be made glad if love were there, and how many a dark dwelling would be filled with light!

How many people came and stayed a certain time, Uttered light or dark speech that became part of you Like light behind windblown fog and sand Filtered and influenced by it, until no part Remains that is surely you.

How rarely boyhood loves to paint in glowing tints his future bright, a picture where no line is faint--whose very clouds are touch'd with light. And girlhood hails a world unknown and reads it in her own glad dreams, as lilies see themselves alone reflected in their azure streams. But rosy clouds that morning brings, ere noon may deepen into thunder--and life's dark stream has sterner things than silver lilies growing under.

How thin and insecure is that little beach of white sand we call consciousness. I've always known that in my writing it is the dark troubled sea of which I know nothing, save its presence, that carried me. I've always felt that creating was a fearless and a timid, a despairing and hopeful, launching out into that unknown.

How this feels is I'm just another task in God's daily planner: The Renaissance pencilled in for right after the Dark Ages. The Information Age is scheduled immediately after the Industrial Revolution. Then the Post-Modern Era, then The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Famine. Check. Pestilence. Check. War. Check. Death. Check. And between the big events, the earthquakes and tidal waves, God's got me squeezed in for a cameo appearance. Then maybe in thirty years, or maybe next year, God's daily planner has me finished.

How science dwindles, and how volumes swell, How commentators each dark passage shun, And hold their farthing candle to the sun!

How rarely do our emotions meet the object they seem to deserve? How hopelessly we signal; how dark the sky; how big the waves. We are all lost at sea, washed between hope and despair, hailing something that may never come to rescue us.

How remarkable we are in our ability to hide things from ourselves - our conscious minds only a small portion of our actual minds, jellyfish floating on a vast dark sea of knowing and deciding.

How strange a scene is this in which we are such shifting figures, pictures, shadows. The mystery of our existence--I have no faith in any attempted explanation of it. It is all a dark, unfathomed profound.

How we delight to build our recollections upon some basis of reality,--a place, a country, a local habitation! how the events of life, as we look back upon them, have grown into the well-remembered background of the places where they fell upon us! Here is some sunny garden or summer lane, beautified and canonized forever, with the flood of a great joy; and here are dim and silent places,--rooms always shadowed and dark to us, whatever they may be to others,--where distress or death came once, and since then dwells forevermore.

How very dull our lives would be without literature! How very much dark and poor, how so sad and empty the world would be!

Huge knots of sea-weed hung upon the jagged and pointed stones, trembling in every breath of wind; and the green ivy clung mournfully round the dark and ruined battlements. Behind it rose the ancient castle, its towers roofless, and its massive walls crumbling away, but telling us proudly of its own might and strength, as when, seven hundred years ago, it rang with the clash of arms, or resounded with the noise of feasting and revelry.

Human beings, we have dark sides; we have dark issues in our lives. To progress anywhere in life, you have to face your demons.

Human knowledge is dark and uncertain; philosophy is dark, astrology is dark, and geometry is dark.

Humanity would have plunged into a new dark age of absolutely frightening and appalling characteristics without Churchill.

Humans have a light side and a dark side, and it's up to us to choose which way we're going to live our lives. Even if you start out on the dark side, it doesn't mean you have to continue your journey that way. You always have time to turn it around.

Humility does not live in the prison of illusion that says that this world is a dark and terrible place. Those perceptions are phantoms; everything is eternity, God, divine.

Hypocrisy can plunge the mind of a man into a dark abyss, when he believes his own self-flattery instead of God's verdict.

I always get offered the pretty, popular girl roles, but I want to do something dark, really challenge myself and get out of my comfort level.

I acquired a hunger for fairy tales in the dark days of blackout and blitz in the second world war.

I actually prefer getting into roles that are the polar opposite of me; that's why I've done so many dark and dreary things.

I always feel I am in the dark. You are never finished... it is not as if you can look back and think: ah... I know what I am talking about. You are only as good as your last job and are always struggling and striving and you never quite get to where you want to be.

I always feel like I am on the dark side of the tracks. I feel I'm no good. I can't read.

I always think, if I were an editor, and I was invited to a show, and I would have to wait for 45 minutes in the dark or in the cold or in the heat, maybe I would like to have a fresh drink or a piece of chocolate.

I always thought what if you took a myth of childhood like the tooth fairy and made it a central scary thing. We did it on Hellboy and we did it on 'Don't be afraid of the dark'.

I always think the novelist should go to the culture's dark places and poke around. Pose a lot of hard questions.

I always thought it would be really, really cool to play Edgar Allan Poe, because when I was a kid, he was one of the authors who really blew my mind open to all sorts of weird dark and twisted places.

I always used to go for blondes and quiet girls, but Victoria is the total opposite - dark and loud.

I always try so hard to find a male doll and shoot a male doll, and it always kind of implodes. Whenever I use men, they're so scary and so dark, and I can never find this sort of lightness or this place between doll and human that I find with female dolls.

I am about to take my last voyage, a great leap in the dark.

I am a big fan of the Coen Brothers; I like their kind of absurd, dark approach.

I am a candid interview and I have a dark and dry sense of humor - a very Canadian sense of humor.