This Raging Light Quotes & Sayings

In my craft or sullen art Exercised in the still night When only the moon rages And the lovers lie abed With all their griefs in their arms, I labour by singing light Not for ambition or bread Or the strut and trade of charms On the ivory stages But for the common wages Of their most secret heart. Not for the proud man apart From the raging moon I write On these spindrift pages Nor for the towering dead With their nightingales and psalms But for the lovers, their arms Round the griefs of the ages, Who pay no praise or wages Nor heed my craft or art. — Dylan Thomas

I love my country, by which I mean I am indebted joyfully to all the people throughout its history, who have fought the government to make right. Where so many cunning sons and daughters, our foremothers and forefathers came singing through slaughter, came through hell and high water so that we could stand here, and behold breathlessly the sight; how a raging river of tears cut a grand canyon of light. Why can't all decent men and women call themselves feminists, out of respect for those that fought for this? — Ani DiFranco

All feeling has an equivalent in action or is useless"
"Did you say that?"
Of course not," she says. "Virginia Woolf — Estelle Laure

To reach the farthest chamber of Lascaux, it's likely a man had to snuff out his light, lower himself down a shaft with a rope made of twisted fibers, and then rekindle his lamp in the dark so as to draw the woolly rhinoceros, the half horse, and the raging bison there. A long spear transfixes that bison, and entrails pour from its side. Beneath its front hooves lies the one painted man in all of Lascaux: prone, spindly wounded, disguised behind a bird mask. And below him, until its discovery in 196o, lay a spoon-shaped lamp carved of red sandstone ... Hold it again as it once was held, and the animals will emerge out of darkness as you pass. Nothing stays still. Shadows nestle in the cavities; a flicker of light across pale protruding rock turns a hoof or raises a head. One shape recedes as another emerges, and everything lingers in the imagination. — Jane Brox

The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, The vapours weep their burthen to the ground, Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath, And after many summer dies the swan. Me only cruel immortality Consumes: I wither slowly in thine arms, Here at the quiet limit of the world. — Alfred Lord Tennyson

Forget the buildings and the monuments. Let the softness of dark come in, all those light-years between stars and planets. Cities were the works of men but the earth before and after those cities, outside and beneath and around them, was the dream of a sleeping leviathan--it was god sleeping there and dreaming, the same god that was time and transfiguration. From whatever dreamed the dream at the source, atom or energy, flowed all the miracles of evolution--tiger, tiger burning bright, the massive whales in the deep, luminescent specters in their mystery. The pearls that were their eyes, their tongues that were wet leaves, their bodies that were the bodies of the fantastic.

Spectacular bestiaries of heaven, the limbs and tails of the gentle and the fearsome, silent or raging at will . . . they could never be known in every detail and they never should be. — Lydia Millet

Raging against the dying of the light - used in The Book of Peach — Dylan Thomas

When I was in the Maine Senate and proposed Maine RX - a plan to lower prescription drug costs by forcing the pharmaceutical companies to negotiate - I was told by many people that it was too big an idea, and we couldn't overcome opposition from the drug companies. — Chellie Pingree

What did it matter that the Light had been taken away from him? What did it matter that Arienne was gone? If it took a thousand years to find her...if he had to cross boiling seas or raging skies...if it cost him his eyes or his tongue, his hands or his feet, his very soul... He would relinquish it all, if it meant he could keep that promise he'd made so long ago. He had nothing else. Without this, he knew, he would simply wither away. — S.K. Michels

If not exactly raging against the dying of the light, I was at least a little cross with it. — Mark Gatiss

Without precisely defined sources, methods, and concepts, it is possible to see absolutely everything and its opposite. — Thomas Piketty

Everybody made faces around here. Human beings, she discovered, could not maintain the stony, frozen expressions of the merfolk, not for an instant. There was not a moment where their faces remained blank. There was always a light in their eye, and the light, like red wind, would flare into a raging fire without notice. — Esther Dalseno

screamed all around him. Luke tossed his empty rifle away and pulled his handgun. He fired down the trench on his own position - it was overrun with enemies. A line of them were running this way. More came sliding, falling, jumping over the wall. Where were his guys? Was anyone still alive? He killed the closest man with a shot to the face. The head exploded like a cherry tomato. He grabbed the man by his tunic and held him up as a shield. The headless man was light, and Luke was raging with adrenaline - it was if the corpse — Jack Mars

We butchered the force present at the airport, we are destroying them. — Mohammed Saeed Al-Sahaf

It matters not the subject taught, nor all the books on all the shelves, What matters most, yes most of all, is what the teachers are themselves. — John Wooden

Love is who you are. Your true self is pure love, infinite awareness, and unbounded joy ... As you realize this, you will feel a small light in your heart. At first it will be the size of a spark, then a candle flame, then a raging bonfire. — Deepak Chopra

There was something that was killing the people in the interior, in the forest area, of the country, and nobody quite knew what it was. That lasted a good three months before it was officially declared that it was Ebola virus. So it started off in Guinea and spread quite slowly, but then spread over the border into Sierra Leone and Liberia. — Ofeibea Quist-Arcton

Hemingway reached over and took Elsie's hand. "Do you know Dylan Thomas? I have always admired his take on death. Like he, I intend to go raging against the dying of the light." "Dear, — Homer Hickam

Thirty minutes out, people," I said. "Where the fuck does she live, Jupiter?" asked Sloane. "Close," I said. "She's in a housing development out near the edge of the wildlife preserve. I guess she likes being close to nature." "Or she's cuckoo-bats," said Sloane. "That's a horrible commute. I'd be road-raging weekly." "That's why we don't let you drive," said Andy. "Henry, you going to light it up?" "No," I said. "No lights, no sirens. We do this quiet." "Because we're so subtle," said Sloane. — Seanan McGuire

The peculiar dignity of men seen eating alone in restaurants on national holidays — Stanley Elkin

Feeling the Wind in Your Hair

The peak of the cliff sits tantalizingly close. Your hands rest on your knees as you gasp, willing more oxygen into your lungs. You look back with pride down the way you've come. Just a little farther and you'll be there. Your energy now partially restored, you step on and on. The light wind lifts the closer you get to the peak. A plateau soon falls away abruptly down to the sea, and the sweeping air collects and whips into your face. The view is sublime but the payoff comes as you stand--arms stretched wide in triumph--with your eyes closed as the raging wind buffets your face. This wind, collected and grown above oceans, flitting and crashing its way across the waves, finally reaches the shore and clasps itself around you in a fleeting embrace. The crack of its passing meets your ears and slowly it absorbs you--a streaming current of air caressing your rejoicing face. — Dan Kieran