From the moment when he catches sight of the light of the world, a man seeks to find out himself and get hold of himself out of its confusion, in which he, with everything else, is tossed about in motley mixture.
Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come.
I think there’s many a slaveholder’ll get to Heaven. They don’t know better. They acts up to the light they have.
Truth, like light, blinds. Falsehood, on the contrary, is a beautiful twilight that enhances every object.
Distinguished ancestors shed a powerful light on their descendants, and forbid the concealment either of their merits or of their demerits.
It’s still scary every time I go back to the past. Each morning, my heart catches. When I get there, I remember how the light was, where the draft was coming from, what odors were in the air. When I write, I get all the weeping out.
The secret thoughts of a man run over all things, holy, profane, clean, obscene, grave, and light, without shame or blame.
Shine like the day I set cosmic eyes on you, friend, by the light of the sweet squash in my lovely laser broom.
From the first opening of our eyes, it is the light that attracts us. We clutch aimlessly with our baby fingers at the gossamer-motes in the sunbeam, and we die reaching out after an ineffable blending of earthly and heavenly beauty which we shall never fully comprehend.
Shadow owes its birth to light.