Best 147 quotes in «shadows quotes» category

But most people are content with a life among shadows. They give no thought to what is casting the shadows. They think shadows are all there are, never realizing even that they are, in fact, shadows. And thus they pay no heed to the immortality of their own soul.

Cherish your existence, for memories become legacies and life can change in an instant.

Don’t give me those blue eyes please, I’ve already given up on our dreams. Nothing can bring back the times where only memories reside.

Do not cry to me. I can only cry with you. I will not die for you. I am still too young in the meaning of love. Talk to the Fool, to the one who left a throne to enter an anthill. He will enter your shadow. It cannot taint Him. He has done it before. His holiness is not fragile. It burns like a father to the sun. Touch His skin, put your hand in His side. He has kept His scars when He did not have to. Give Him your pain and watch it overwhelmed, burned away by the joy He takes in loving. In stooping.

Don’t ever be a stupid shadow who follows perfectly his leader no matter what foolishness his leader does!

Don't regret your despondency in the shadows of evil, for the good light never did anything to erase your misery.

Do you keep looking for fault in everything? that is what you will find Do you keep looking for cruelty in people around you? you'll never find the good in them When you stop looking for the shadows, the LIGHT you will see

Eleanor had heard talk of the rebellion that existed inside the city of Constance before. Most of the information she gathered was considered an old fairy tale by the general public. There were a few stories here and there about people angered by their present living conditions, who had demanded that the center of Constance be held responsible for it. However, information was never passed between the five different sectors. Over the years the tales of the rebellion had become children’s bedtime stories, and people did not take them seriously.

Emily woke to shadows and their voices. They looked different today, because the entire world hurt. The numbness had worn off sometime between sleep and awake, and she was seeing red. The shadows on the walls were not shadows at all, but red blobs consisting of teeth and claws. Her house reeked of pain. The whole world was fucking bleeding.

Empires die, like all of us dancers in the strobe-lit dark. See how the light needs shadows.

Eve returned to her lip-gloss application. "Biology. Ms Whittier," she said, not bothering to look at Luke. "Cool. Me too. Can I borrow that?" He reached around her and plucked her lip glaze out of her fingers. She still held the wand. He held out his hand for it. "What? No," Eve said. "Come on, it's my first day. I want to make a good impression. And clearly biology can't be understood without lipstick," Luke joked. "Funny." Eve grabbed the lip glaze back. "This stuff is really good for you." Luke raised his eyebrows. They disappeared into his floppy blond hair. He didn't have expressive dark brows like Mal. "It has green tea antioxidants," Eve continued. "And macadamia extract and aloe vera for healing." "Oh. That's different then," Luke said. "Carry on.

Every decision you make in life will stem from one of two options: love or fear. Choose love.

Everything can always be better! To know this is a wit! But if you also know that everything can always be worse and that is wisdom! Wisdom is to see both the lights and the shadows!

For some soldiers, there is a greater war going on behind the gun's shadow of family and friends, than in front of the gun pointing at strange enemies.

For your shadow, you are his shadow!

Here, Earth-born, over the lilt of the water, Lisping its music and bearing a burden of light, Bosoming day as a laughing and radiant daughter… Here we may whisper unheard, unafraid of the night. Walking alone…was it splendor, or what, we were bound with? Deep in the time when summer lets down her hair? Shadows we loved and the patterns they covered the ground with Tapestries, mystical, faint in the breathless air.

He is there; I feel him, one ten-thousandth of an inch outside my range of vision. I stalk him. He stalks me. The man who wrote these books is not the man who lives in them. That man is the form; Will Henry is the shadow. And now that shadow lives in me. And it lives in you.

Here we go,” Phoenix said, turning back to Nora. “Try not to let this room scare you.

He sped down Melrose Avenue, skating from shade to shade to the deeper darkness along the north-facing shops. Papers fluttered and leaves trembled in his wake. Outside a dress boutique two girls turned, startled by the change in air he had caused. They glanced at each other and laughed. The dark pretty one whispered, "Someone just walked over our graves." That made them laugh again, but Stanton sensed more. He twirled back and savored their fear. He wanted to drop into his body and become solid in front of them but he didn't have time. Instead he whispered, "Death is riding on the wind." Their eyes shot open and he sucked in that terror.

He clutched at his chest, trying to find the pendant that hung there, to hold onto the reality of it, the reality of his age and the time in which he was living, but the shadows surrounded him on all sides and the fear grew in his heart and he was only a frightened little boy.

How incredibly exciting this one meaningless thing can be, this life of yours.

I am dreaming, but I don't know it yet.

I am inclined to disagree with Jung when he says the Shadow is the person that we’d rather not be. The Shadow is that unadorned part of ourself, it is flexible the way it stretches and contorts. The Shadow is our dark side, the side we hide and climb into, not the person that we would rather not be, but the person we would rather be.

He who hides himself amongst the shadows deserves to live inside the dark shadows! Meet with the light to deserve the light!

I am a tale, I am a book, written in different languages and styles I can’t be read, can’t be understood, neither by me nor the greatest of minds I am too big, I am too small, to be processed or seen by the naked eye I am too dim, I am too bright, to appear in the shadows or the sunshine.

I guess that sometimes it just takes a long walk through the darkness, a long walk through the darkest shadows and corners of your soul to realize that those are a part of you as well, that you've created through your experiences and thoughts those parts within yourself and as much as you can choose to fear them and repress them, they will require your attention one day, they will need your care and acceptance before you can clean them away and turn the lights on. For you refuse to shine the light on something that is imperfect, because you fear judgement and rejection, but you can always choose to look towards the light as the only source of true beauty and love that can help you in the cleaning process. Healing, after a long time of struggle and mess is a complex process, but a necessary one nevertheless. We are so overwhelmed by the amount of work it requires that we so often choose to run away from the light, hide in our dark corner and hope that we will never be found, hope that we will never be seen, or desperately look outwards for that love and compassion that we can no longer find within ourselves, for our soul's light no longer shines as it used to. And sometimes we just find those people that can see the light beneath all that dust and darkness that's been pilled up, those kind of light workers that understand our broken souls and manage to pick us up and see the beauty within us, when we find it so hard to see it ourselves. Sometimes I get so tired of separation, of division, of groups and different religions and belief systems. Even if you do find the truth, once you've put it into words, books and rules it already becomes distorted by the mind into something that is no longer truth. So I no longer hope for understanding, no longer hope for the opinion of a judgemental mind, but I hope to find the words that touch the soul before the mind, I hope to find the touch that warms the heart from deep inside, and hope to find that far away abandoned part of me which I've left behind.

I am glad that it is old and big. I myself am of an old family, and to live in a new house would kill me. A house cannot be made habitable in a day; and, after all, how few days go to make up a century. I rejoice also that there is a chapel of old times. We Transylvanian nobles love not to think that our bones may be amongst the common dead. I seek not gaiety nor mirth, not the bright voluptuousness of much sunshine and sparkling waters which please the young and gay. I am no longer young; and my heart, through wearing years of mourning over the dead, is not attuned to mirth. Moreover, the walls of my castle are broken; the shadows are many, and the wind breathes cold through the broken battlements and casements. I love the shade and the shadow, and would be alone with my thoughts when I may.

If you feel like you don't fit into the world you inherited it is because you were born to help create a new one.

If a shadow begins to think of itself as light, what should we say to him? Don't say anything, just bring him to the light!

If life was a piano light and darkness would be the keys. And shadows would be the melody that creates the harmony.

I'll see you in my dreams.

If you want to look after your shadow, you just have to look after yourself, that will do!

In her mind, the ground rumbled and split open revealing the edge into a dark abyss. The shadows were always calling to her. Laughing at her. The familiar strains of loneliness flared under their torment. Drawing in a deep breath, she screamed to the black, “You’re not allowed to hurt me and know it!” Her voice echoed off the earthen walls and whispered back, “Be free. Be fearless.

In order to fall asleep we must first close our eyes and pretend to be sleeping. Can the same be true for happiness and success?

I have danced too deeply in my shadows, to ever fear the walk of my sunshine.

I'm the bridge jumping friend parents warned you about.

i'm your shadows, created by your light and walking with darkness; every where you are, your life.

I stare out at the real world projected on the windows

It is only where the light and shadow meet, we can see the beauty of both the light and the shadow!

It occurred to Rosie that she couldn't hide either, even though the truth had been hidden from her. Now she was out from the shadows, out in the open for the first time in her life, standing in the harsh light.

It was that time of dusk when there is a—deepening of the interior shadows. It is a melancholy time: all you need do is switch on one lamp and the inside and the outside will separate, held apart by the reflections in the glass, and evening will begin.

I urge you to listen. I beg you to pay attention for these are the most important words I will ever pen: Do not succumb to the half-life! To the indifference and apathy of those cool and aloof individuals. Nothing affects them, their lover cries out desperately for affection but they shrug their shoulders—for they are always shrugging— and transcend the messy drama of the human situation. O this transcendental invincibility—I tell you: the shit of the bull! We are not gods. We are human. Even Christ chose immanence so He could feel as the people felt, suffer as they did. You must revel in your neuroses, your sensitivities and sensibilities. Burn your excitable character, do not extinguish this fire. Stay within. Taste the immediacy of living. Be in life with others. Do not yield to the hypocrisy the world demands! Do not succumb to the shadows, to the half-light, to the half-life. We are not gods. Be human.

I wait in fear, as the shadows draw near, spreading over the sky, will I live or die?

It’s the beating of my heart. The way I lie awake, playing with shadows slowly climbing up my wall. The gentle moonlight slipping through my window and the sound of a lonely car somewhere far away, where I long to be too, I think. It’s the way I thought my restless wandering was over, that I’d found whatever I thought I had found, or wanted, or needed, and I started to collect my belongings. Build a home. Safe behind the comfort of these four walls and a closed door. Because as much as I tried or pretended or imagined myself as a part of all the people out there, I was still the one locking the door every night. Turning off the phone and blowing out the candles so no one knew I was home. ’cause I was never really well around the expectations of my personality and I wanted to keep to myself. and because I haven’t been very impressed lately. By people, or places. Or the way someone said he loved me and then slowly changed his mind.

I wonder how it takes you, that moment when everything turns to shadows.

- Merci d'être ma lumière dans l'obscurité.

Music for him was a way to show his love and desire for me. It was beautiful and raw. But it was his escape route as well. It took him inward, away from restraints and walls. He could feel the music wash over him, the lyrics taking his thoughts wherever they needed to be in those moments. He lived for dreams and fantasies. He was full of humor and charm, yet if it weren't for his love of music his life was overwhelmingly dull.

My dream is to create something so beautiful that it encourages people to present the best version of themselves to me everywhere I go.

My shadow is tired walking with me; but I have yet to be bored walking with myself, all by myself...

Maybe it's time you come out of the shadows