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If there were no night, we would not appreciate the day, nor could we see the stars and the vastness of the heavens. We must partake of the bitter with the sweet. There is a divine purpose in the adversities we encounter every day. They prepare, they purge, they purify, and thus they bless.

In the country the darkness of night is friendly and familiar, but in a city, with its blaze of lights, it is unnatural, hostile and menacing. It is like a monstrous vulture that hovers, biding its time.

In a real dark night of the soul, it is always three o'clock in the morning, day after day.

Think of how dark that Friday was when Christ was lifted up on the cross... It was a Friday filled with devastating, consuming sorrow that gnawed at the souls of those who loved and honored the Son of God.

Night is the mother of thoughts.

Night comes to the desert all at once, as if someone turned off the light.

Night is the mother of counsels.

They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.

It is often when night looks darkest, it is often before the fever breaks that one senses the gathering momentum for change, when one feels that resurrection of hope in the midst of despair and apathy.