Even a single lamp dispels the deepest darkness.
I've attempted to flood the path with light where I could, and where I could not I've wanted at least to hold up a candle so that others coming this way might not stumble too painfully.
In a time of darkness, you don't curse the darkness, you light a candle.
You are as the yellow leaf. The messengers of death are at hand. You are to travel far away. What will you take with you? You are the lamp To lighten the way. Then hurry, hurry. When your light shines.
We're here for a reason. I believe a bit of the reason is to throw little torches out to lead people through the dark.
My friend, you should blow out your candle in order to find your way more clearly.
"Lights," I said softly. This had become my favorite word over the past week. In my mind, it had become synonymous with freedom.
We should be shining lamps, giving light to all around us.
Light our fire and protect us from the dark, blah blah, light our way and keep us toasty warm, the night is dark and full of terrors, save us from the scary things, and blah blah blah some more.
Who would not be pleased at carrying lamps helpfully through the darkness?
Let it not be death but completeness. Let love melt into memory and pain into songs. Let the flight through the sky end in the folding of the wings over the nest. Let the last touch of your hands be gentle like the flower of the night. Stand still, O Beautiful End, for a moment, and say your last words in silence. I bow to you and hold up my lamp to light you on your way.
Torches," Porak ordered. "This is dumb," Jig grumbled as one of the others handed out torches. "Why not run ahead and warn any intruders that we're coming? Maybe we should sing, too, in case they're blind.
