"The dark is generous.
Its first gift is concealment: our true faces lie in the dark beneath our skins, our true hearts remain shadower deeper still. But the greatest concealment lies not in protecting our secret truths, but in hiding from us the truth of others.
The dark protects us from what we dare not know.
Its second gift is conforting illusion: the ease of gentle dreams in night's embrace, the beauty that imagination brings to what would repel in day's harsh light. But the greatest of its conforts is the illusion that the dark is temporary: that evry night brings a new day. Because it is day that is temporary.
Day is the illusion.
Its third gift is the light itself: as days are defined by the nights that divide them, as stars are defined by the infinate black through which they wheel, the dark embraces the light, and brings it forth from the center of its own self.
For each victory of the light, it is the dark that wins."
"The dark is generous, and it is patient.
It is the dark that seeds cruelity into justice, that drips contempt
into compassion, that poisons love with grais of doubt.
The dark is patient, because the slightest drop of rain wil
cause those seeds to sprout.
The rain will come, and the seeds will sprout, for the is the
soil in which they grow, and it is the clouds above them, and it waits
behind the star that gives them light.
The dark's patience is infinite.
Eventually, even stars burn out."
"The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins.
It always wins because it is everywhere.
It is in the wood that you burn in your hearth, and in the kettle on
the fire: it is under your chair and under your table and under the
sheets on your bed. Walk in the midday sun and the dark is with you,
attached to the soles of your feet.
The brightest light cast the darkest shadow."
"The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins-but
in the heart of it lies weakness: one lone candle is enough
to hold it back.
Love is more than a candle.
Love can ignite the stars."
Its first gift is concealment: our true faces lie in the dark beneath our skins, our true hearts remain shadower deeper still. But the greatest concealment lies not in protecting our secret truths, but in hiding from us the truth of others.
The dark protects us from what we dare not know.
Its second gift is conforting illusion: the ease of gentle dreams in night's embrace, the beauty that imagination brings to what would repel in day's harsh light. But the greatest of its conforts is the illusion that the dark is temporary: that evry night brings a new day. Because it is day that is temporary.
Day is the illusion.
Its third gift is the light itself: as days are defined by the nights that divide them, as stars are defined by the infinate black through which they wheel, the dark embraces the light, and brings it forth from the center of its own self.
For each victory of the light, it is the dark that wins."
"The dark is generous, and it is patient.
It is the dark that seeds cruelity into justice, that drips contempt
into compassion, that poisons love with grais of doubt.
The dark is patient, because the slightest drop of rain wil
cause those seeds to sprout.
The rain will come, and the seeds will sprout, for the is the
soil in which they grow, and it is the clouds above them, and it waits
behind the star that gives them light.
The dark's patience is infinite.
Eventually, even stars burn out."
"The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins.
It always wins because it is everywhere.
It is in the wood that you burn in your hearth, and in the kettle on
the fire: it is under your chair and under your table and under the
sheets on your bed. Walk in the midday sun and the dark is with you,
attached to the soles of your feet.
The brightest light cast the darkest shadow."
"The dark is generous, and it is patient, and it always wins-but
in the heart of it lies weakness: one lone candle is enough
to hold it back.
Love is more than a candle.
Love can ignite the stars."
