They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
There are two births: the one when light, First strikes the new awakened sense; The other when two souls unite, And we must count our life from thence, When you loved me and I loved you, Then both of us were born anew.
The stars, that nature hung in heaven, and filled their lamps with everlasting oil, give due light to the misled and lonely traveller.
People who light up like Roman candles come down in the dark very quickly.
Nature gives to every time and season some beauties of its own; and from morning to night, as from the cradle to the grave, it is but a succession of changes so gentle and easy that we can scarcely mark their progress.
Night comes to the desert all at once, as if someone turned off the light.
The night is a skin pulled over the head of day that the day may be in torment.
In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present.
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.
If Confucius wasn't born, the long night would have no bright lamp.
Shadow owes its birth to light.