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Quote by Sappho Khizar

“From time and time again, I reach a place where no human can comfort my aching heart. My parents, siblings, and friends regardless of how much they wish to see me become the person they've idealized for me, I fail utterly. It seems like I am at the edge where I can very much negate or deny their existence.It's like they are needed no more. I wish to be with them no longer. I struggle to breathe and they suffocate the air that I can breathe. And the inhaler for me is the love of that one person who has dimmed my whole being into this darkness where I cannot see the dot of light from the darkness within and around me! Ain't I sick? Yes, I agree. I am sick.”

Quote by Sappho Khizar

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Sappho Khizar

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“Suppose that a great commotion arises in the street about something, let us say a lamp-post, which many influential persons desire to pull down. A grey-clad monk, who is the spirit of the Middle Ages, is approached upon the matter, and begins to say, in the arid manner of the Schoolmen, "Let us first of all consider, my brethren, the value of Light. If Light be in itself good—" At this point he is somewhat excusably knocked down. All the people make a rush for the lamp-post, the lamp-post is down in ten minutes, and they go about congratulating each other on their unmediaeval practicality. But as things go on they do not work out so easily. Some people have pulled the lamp-post down because they wanted the electric light; some because they wanted old iron; some because they wanted darkness, because their deeds were evil. Some thought it not enough of a lamp-post, some too much; some acted because they wanted to smash municipal machinery; some because they wanted to smash something. And there is war in the night, no man knowing whom he strikes. So, gradually and inevitably, to-day, to-morrow, or the next day, there comes back the conviction that the monk was right after all, and that all depends on what is the philosophy of Light. Only what we might have discussed under the gas-lamp, we now must discuss in the dark.”

WarLightDarknessValueThoughtPracticalityLamppost
Book:Heretics
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“I felt the revenant tense and knew before she spoke that it was Mother Dolours. “I fear that an age of saints and miracles isn’t something to celebrate, Sister Marie. The Lady sends us such gifts only in times of darkness. Do you recall the writings of Saint Liliane?" The sister was silent a moment. Then she murmured, “And so the silent bell wakens to herald the Dead; and the last candle is lit against the coming night...” I stained to hear more, but their voices had dwindled as the passed outside the hall, leaving a cold lump in my stomach and the lingering image of a single, steady candle flame slowly burning itself down, the only remaining light to hold off the dark.”

LightDarknessFantasyImportanceCandleSaintsVespertineTimes Of Darkness
Book:Vespertine
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