Darker Quotes

It's so much darker when a light goes out than it would have been if it had never shone.

Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings -- always darker, emptier and simpler.

I'd rather die on an adventure than live standing still.

We are all like the bright moon, we still have our darker side.

This is me, Ana. All of me...and I'm all yours. What do I have to do to make you realize that? To make you see that I want you any way I can get you. That I love you.

I'm not going to die," she said. "Not till I've seen it." "Seen what?" Her smile widened. "Everything.

I apologize for anything I might have done. I was not myself.” “I apologize for shooting you in the leg.” said Lila. “I was myself entirely.

Somewhere inside me is a merciful, forgiving person. Somewhere there is a girl who tries to understand what people are going through, who accepts that people do evil things and that desperation leads them to darker places than they ever imagined. I swear she exists, and she hurts for the repentant boy I see in front of me. But if I saw her, I wouldn't recognize her.

While the Clave disapproves of trespassers, oddly they take an even darker view of beheading and skinning people. They're peculiar that way.

The sky grew darker, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of night.

Since it is so likely that (children) will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage. Otherwise you are making their destiny not brighter but darker.

You are the noblest, purest creature I've ever met. The universe will be a darker place without you," he whispered.

You love me,” I whisper. His eyes widen further and his mouth opens. He takes a huge breath as if winded. He looks tortured—vulnerable. “Yes,” he whispers. “I do.

You wanted hearts and flowers,” he murmurs. I blink at him, not quite believing what I’m seeing. “You have my heart.” And he waves toward the room. “And here are the flowers,” I whisper, completing his sentence. “Christian, it’s lovely.

I don't know whether to worship at your feet or spank the living shit out of you.

Patch's eyes were slate black, darker than a million secrets stacked on top of each other. He dropped his gaze to the ring in his hand, turning it over slowly. "Swear you'll never stop loving me," I whispered. Ever so slightly, he nodded.

I wasn't aware we were fighting. I thought we were communicating,

You’re the only person I’d fly three thousand miles to see.

I thought I'd broken you." "Broken? Me? Oh no, Ana. Just the opposite." He reaches out and takes my hand. "You're my lifeline'" he whispers.

Don’t leave me,” he whispers. “Oh, for crying out loud—no! I am not going to go!” I shout and it’s cathartic. There, I’ve said it. I am not leaving. “Really?” His eyes widen. “What can I do to make you understand I will not run? What can I say?” He gazes at me, revealing his fear and anguish again. He swallows. “There is one thing you can do.” “What?” I snap. “Marry me,” he whispers.

For the ones who dream of stranger worlds.

Are you on your own?" "No. There are six people staring at me right now wondering who the hell i'm talking to." shit..."Really?" I gasp, panicked. "Yes. Really. My girlfriend," he announces away from the phone. holy cow! "They probably all thought you were gay, you know.

Sure I do,” countered Lila cheerfully. “There’s Dull London, Kell London, Creepy London, and Dead London,” she recited, ticking them off on her fingers. “See? I’m a fast learner.

Hesitation is the death of advantage.

As Athera. To grow. As Pyrata. To burn. As Illumae. To light. As Orense. To open. As Anase. To dispel. As Hasari. To heal. As Travars. To Travel.

Her lips touched his brain as they touched his lips, as though they were a vehicle of some vague speech and between them he felt an unknown and timid preasure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odor.

I hug him tightly. “I can’t imagine my life without you, Christian. I love you so much it frightens me.” “Me, too,” he breathes. “My life would be empty without you. I love you so much.

I'm anything but fine. I feel like the sun has set and not risen for five days, Ana. I'm in perpetual night here".

From his inside jacket pocket he produces a ring and gazes up at me, his eyes bright gray and raw, full of emotion. "Anastasia Steele, I love you. I want to love, cherish and protect you for the rest of my life. Be mine. Always. Share my life with me. Marry me".

You know so little of war. Battles may be fought from the outside in, but wars are won from the inside out.

When you're a kid, they tell you it's all... grow up. Get a job. Get married. Get a house. Have a kid, and that's it. But the truth is, the world is so much stranger than that. It's so much darker. And so much madder. And so much better.

But I'm a selfish man. I've wanted you since you fell into my office. You are exquisite, honest, warm, strong, witty, beguilingly innocent; the list is endless. I'm in awe of you. I want you, and the thought of anyone else having you is like a knife twisting in my dark soul.

Some people steal to stay alive, and some steal to feel alive. Simple as that.

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication. Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation. Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in to the power of the music of the night.

Let me love you," he says hoarsely. "Yes," I answer, and turning, he hauls me into his arms, his lips seeking mine, beseeching me, worshipping me, cherishing me...loving me.

I lay awake for hours and watched you sleep," he murmurs. "I might have loved you even then.

So you're my boss now," I snap. "Technically, I'm you're boss's boss's boss." "And technically, it's gross moral turpitude- the fact that i am fucking my boss's boss's boss." "At the moment, you're arguing with him." Christian scowls.

Some say the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice I say the darker the flesh then the deeper the roots

The bodies in my floor all trusted someone. Now I walk on them to tea.

Bad magic, Kell had called it. No, thought Lila now. Clever magic. And clever was more dangerous than bad any day of the week.

I want you. I want you so badly I can’t stand it. When you left, it felt like the world got darker. Like I couldn’t truly see anything. Couldn’t feel anything.

I love him. Simple.

Why, oh why have I fallen for someone who is plain crazy—beautiful, sexy as fuck, richer than Croesus, and crazy with a capital K?

But she wondered why beautiful things had to be wrapped up with evil history. Or was it the other way around? Maybe the evil history made it necessary to build beautiful things, to mask the darker aspects.

It was darker than a pitch-black panther, covered in tar, eating black licorice at the very bottom of the deepest part of the Black Sea.

We have to learn to walk before we can run

Let me ask you something first. Do you want a regular vanilla relationship with no kinky fuckery at all?" My mouth drops open. "Kinky fuckery?" I squeak. "Kinky fuckery." "I can't believe you said that.' "Well, I did. Answer me," he says calmly. I flush. My inner goddess is down on bended knee with her hands clasped in supplication begging me. "I like your kinky fuckery," I whisper.

I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh, And eat well, And grow strong. Tomorrow, I'll be at the table When company comes. Nobody'll dare Say to me, "Eat in the kitchen," Then. Besides, They'll see how beautiful I am And be ashamed-- I, too, am America.

A life worth having is a life worth taking.

Sweet Jesus, you're wearing stockings."--Christian Grey

Anastasia Steele. I love you. I want to love, cherish, and protect you for the rest of my life. Be mine. Always, Share my life with me. Marry me.

There's a joy in my helplessness, joy in my surrender to him, and to know that he can lose himself in me the way he wants to. I can do this. He takes me to these dark places, places I didn't know existed, and together we fill them with blinding light. Oh yes...blazing, blinding light." -Anastasia Steele

But the thing about people, Kell had discovered, is that they didn't really want to know. They thought they did, but knowing only made them miserable.

What we see before us is just one tiny part of the world. We get in the habit of thinking, this is the world, but that's not true at all. The real world is a much darker and deeper place than this, and much of it is occupied by jellyfish and things.

There's something about you Anastasia, that calls to me on some deep level I don't understand. It's a siren's call. I can't resist you, and I don't want to lose you.... don't run, please - have a little faith in me and a little patience please

That is how life feels too often. Like you're doing everything you can to survive only to be sabotaged by something beyond your control, maybe even some darker part of yourself.

He would see her again. He knew he would. Magic bent the world. Pulled it into shape. There were fixed points. Most of the time they were places. But sometimes, rarely, they were people. For someone who never stood still, Lila felt like a pin in Kell's world. One he was sure to snag on.

We’ve chased the dawn, Anastasia, now the dusk.

P.S. I also note that you included the Stalker's Anthem "Every Breath You Take" I do enjoy our sense of humor, but does Dr. Flynn know?

We throw our parties; we abandon our families to live alone in Canada; we struggle to write books that do not change the world, despite our gifts and our unstinting efforts, our most extravagant hopes. We live our lives, do whatever we do, and then we sleep. It's as simple and ordinary as that. A few jump out windows, or drown themselves, or take pills; more die by accident; and most of us are slowly devoured by some disease, or, if we're very fortunate, by time itself. There's just this for consolation: an hour here or there when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined, though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) know these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning; we hope, more than anything, for more. Heaven only knows why we love it so...

I like my coffee black, my beer from Germany, wine from Burgundy, the darker, the better. I like my heroes complicated and brooding, James Dean in oiled leather, leaning on a motorcycle. You know the color. ("Ode to Chocolate")

Now I am quietly waiting for the catastrophe of my personality to seem beautiful again, and interesting, and modern. The country is grey and brown and white in trees, snows and skies of laughter always diminishing, less funny not just darker, not just grey. It may be the coldest day of the year, what does he think of that? I mean, what do I? And if I do, perhaps I am myself again.

No. No!” he says. “I . . .” He looks wildly around the room. For inspiration? For divine intervention? I don’t know. “You can’t go. Ana, I love you!” “I love you, too, Christian, it’s just—” “No . . . no!” he says in desperation and puts both hands on his head. “Christian . . .” “No,” he breathes, his eyes wide with panic, and suddenly he drops to his knees in front of me, head bowed, long-fingered hands spread out on his thighs. He takes a deep breath and doesn’t move. What? “Christian, what are you doing?” He continues to stare down, not looking at me. “Christian! What are you doing?” My voice is high-pitched. He doesn’t move. “Christian, look at me!” I command in panic. His head sweeps up without hesitation, and he regards me passively with his cool gray gaze—he’s almost serene . . . expectant. Holy Fuck . . . Christian. The submissive.

The days will always be brighter because he existed. The nights will always be darker because he's gone. And no matter what anybody says about grief, and about time healing all wounds, the truth is, there are certain sorrows that never fade away until the heart stops beating and the last breath is taken.

Things aren't what they used to be' is the rallying cry of small minds. When men say things used to be better, they invariably mean they were better for them, because they were young, and had all their hopes intact. The world is bound to look a darker place as you slide into the grave.

You love strapping me in, don’t you?” “In any form,” he says, a wicked grin playing on his lips. “You are a pervert.” “I know.” He raises his eyebrows and his grin broadens. “My pervert,” I whisper. “Yes, yours.

When did I say I'd never leave?" "In your sleep, it was the most comforting thing I'd heard in so long.

Aren't you afraid of dying?" he asked Lila now. She looked at him as if it were a strange question. And then she shook her head. "Death comes for everyone," she said simply. "I'm not afraid of dying. But I am afraid of dying here." She swept her hand over the room, the tavern, the city. "I'd rather die on an adventure than live standing still.

You look more ready to storm a city than seduce a man.

Christian, you had me at the meadow.

Coffee first. Schemes later.

I cannot be with someone who takes pleasure in inflicting pain on me, someone who can’t love me.

Lila Bard knew in her bones that she was meant to be a pirate.

I'm going to say hi to my girl now

Don't run, please-have a little faith in me and a little patience. Please.

His magic is powerful, intoxicating. I'm a butterfly caught in his net, unable and unwilling to escape. I'm his ....... totally his". (Ana to Christian)

A controlling man, surely a mythical creature?

i'm fifty shades of fucked up.

There is just this for consolation: an hour here or there, when our lives seem, against all odds and expectations, to burst open and give us everything we've ever imagined , though everyone but children (and perhaps even they) knows these hours will inevitably be followed by others, far darker and more difficult. Still, we cherish the city, the morning, we hope, more than anything, for more. Heaven only knows why we love it so.

Looking for trouble, he'd say. You're gonna look til you find it. Trouble is the looker, she'd answer. It keeps looking till it finds you. Might as well find it first. Why do you want to die? I don't, she'd say. I just want to live.

He doesn’t look like a CEO—he looks like a bad boy from the wrong side of town. Holy cow, he’s so fucking sexy.

I would have told you earlier, but as it was your birthday . . . What do you give the man who has everything? I thought I’d give you . . . me.” He puts the keychain down on the bedside table and snuggles in beside me, pulling me into his arms against his chest so that we’re spooning. “It’s perfect. Like you.

Time isn't the same for the mad and the blind.

Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.

Word of mouth was its own kind of magic.

You're my lifeline," he whispers, and he kisses my knuckles before pressing my palm against his.

Well, Anastasia, my new motto is, 'If you can't beat'em, join'em

Lila Bard lived by a simple rule: if a thing was worth having, it was worth taking.

From: Christian Grey Subject: One more request Date: June 10, 2011 00:15 To: Anastasia Steele Dream of Me. x Christian Grey CEO, Grey Enterprise Holdings. Inc.

But, you have needs." "I need you more.

Whoa. I’ve never heard him sing, not even in the shower, ever. I frown. He has a lovely voice—of course. Hmm . . . has he heard me sing? He wouldn’t be asking you to marry him if he had! My subconscious has her arms crossed and is wearing Burberry check . . . jeez.

Why should they ask me to put on a uniform and go 10,000 miles from home and drop bombs and bullets on Brown people in Vietnam while so-called Negro people in Louisville are treated like dogs and denied simple human rights? No I’m not going 10,000 miles from home to help murder and burn another poor nation simply to continue the domination of white slave masters of the darker people the world over. This is the day when such evils must come to an end. I have been warned that to take such a stand would cost me millions of dollars. But I have said it once and I will say it again. The real enemy of my people is here. I will not disgrace my religion, my people or myself by becoming a tool to enslave those who are fighting for their own justice, freedom and equality. If I thought the war was going to bring freedom and equality to 22 million of my people they wouldn’t have to draft me, I’d join tomorrow. I have nothing to lose by standing up for my beliefs. So I’ll go to jail, so what? We’ve been in jail for 400 years.

What are you?" she asked. "A monster," said Kell hoarsely. "You'd better let me go." The girl gave a small, mocking laugh. "Monsters don't faint in the presence of ladies." "Ladies don't dress like men and pick pockets," retorted Kell. Her smile only sharpened. "What are you really?" "Tied to your bed," said Kell matter-of-factly. "And?" His brow furrowed. "And in trouble.

You have a house if not a home," she spat. "You have people who care for you if not about you. You may not have everything you want, but I'd wager you have everything you could ever need, and you have the audacity to claim it all forfeit because it is not love." "I--" "Love doesn't keep us from freezing to death, Kell," she continued, "or starving, or being knifed for the coins in our pocket. Love doesn't buy us anything, so be glad for what you have and who you have because you may want for things but you need nothing.

Delilah Bard,” she said. “We’ve met before. And you looked worse.” Rhy laughed silently. “I apologize for anything I might have done. I was not myself.” “I apologize for shooting you in the leg,” said Lila. “I was myself entirely.” Rhy broke into his perfect smile. “I like this one,” he said to Kell. “Can I borrow her?” “You can try,” said Lila, raising a brow. “But you’ll be a prince without his fingers.

Where did you get this?" he asked. "In a pocket in your coat," said Lila, stretching. "By the way, did you know that your coat is more than one coat? I'm pretty sure I went though five or six to find that." Kell stared at her, slack-jawed. "What?" she asked. "How did you know what it was for?" Lila shrugged. "I didn't." "What if it had been poison?" he snapped. "There's really no winning with you.

The wish of death had been palpably hanging over this otherwise idyllic paradise for a good many years. All business and politics is personal in the Philippines. If it wasn't for the cheap beer and lovely girls one of us would spend an hour in this dump. They [Jehovah's Witnesses] get some kind of frequent flyer points for each person who signs on. I'm not lazy. I'm just motivationally challenged. I'm not fat. I just have lots of stored energy. You don't get it do you? What people think of you matters more than the reality. Marilyn. Despite standing firm at the final hurdle Marilyn was always ready to run the race. After answering the question the woman bent down behind the stand out of sight of all, and crossed herself. It is amazing what you can learn in prison. Merely through casual conversation Rick had acquired the fundamentals of embezzlement, fraud and armed hold up. He wondered at the price of honesty in a grey world whose half tones changed faster than the weather. The banality of truth somehow always surprises the news media before they tart it up. You've ridden jeepneys in peak hour. Where else can you feel up a fourteen-year-old schoolgirl without even trying? [Ralph Winton on the Philippines finer points] Life has no bottom. No matter how bad things are or how far one has sunk things can always get worse. You could call the Oval Office an information rain shadow. In the Philippines, a whole layer of criminals exists who consider that it is their right to rob you unhindered. If you thwart their wicked desires, to their way of thinking you have stolen from them and are evil. There's honest and dishonest corruption in this country. Don't enjoy it too much for it's what we love that usually kills us. The good guys don't always win wars but the winners always make sure that they go down in history as the good guys. The Philippines is like a woman. You love her and hate her at the same time. I never believed in all my born days that ideas of truth and justice were only pretty words to brighten a much darker and more ubiquitous reality. The girl was experiencing the first flushes of love while Rick was at least feeling the methadone equivalent. Although selfishness and greed are more ephemeral than the real values of life their effects on the world often outlive their origins. Miriam's a meteor job. Somewhere out there in space there must be a meteor with her name on it. Tsismis or rumours grow in this land like tropical weeds. Surprises are so common here that nothing is surprising. A crooked leader who can lead is better than a crooked one who can't. Although I always followed the politics of Hitler I emulate the drinking habits of Churchill. It [Australia] is the country that does the least with the most. Rereading the brief lines that told the story in the manner of Fox News reporting the death of a leftist Rick's dark imagination took hold. Didn't your mother ever tell you never to trust a man who doesn't drink? She must have been around twenty years old, was tall for a Filipina and possessed long black hair framing her smooth olive face. This specter of loveliness walked with the assurance of the knowingly beautiful. Her crisp and starched white uniform dazzled in the late-afternoon light and highlighted the natural tan of her skin. Everything about her was in perfect order. In short, she was dressed up like a pox doctor’s clerk. Suddenly, she stopped, turned her head to one side and spat comprehensively into the street. The tiny putrescent puddle contrasted strongly with the studied aplomb of its all-too-recent owner, suggesting all manner of disease and decay.

Kell wore a very peculiar coat. It had neither one side, which would be conventional, nor two, which would be unexpected, but several, which was, of course, impossible. The first thing he did whenever he stepped out of one London and into another was take off the coat and turn it inside out once or twice (or even three times) until he found the side he needed. Not all of them were fashionable, but they each served a purpose. There were ones that blended in and ones that stood out, and one that served no purpose but of which he was just particularly fond.

I want you, Anastasia,” he murmurs. “I love and I hate, and I love arguing with you. It’s very new. I need to know that we’re okay. It’s the only way I know how.” “My feelings for you haven’t changed,” I whisper. His proximity is overwhelming, exhilarating. The familiar pull is there, all my synapses goading me toward him, my inner goddess at her most libidinous. Staring at the patch of hair in the V of his shirt, I bite my lip, helpless, driven by desire—I want to taste him there. He’s so close, but he doesn’t touch me. His heat is warming my skin. “I’m not going to touch you until you say yes,” he says softly. “But right now, after a really shitty morning, I want to bury myself in you and just forget everything but us.

This way,” he murmurs and abruptly is inside me once more, but he doesn’t start his usual punishing rhythm straight away. He leans over, releases my hands, and pulls me upright so I am practically sitting on him. His hands move up to my breasts, and he palms them both, tugging gently on my nipples. I groan, tossing my head back against his shoulder. He nuzzles my neck, biting down, as he flexes his hips, deliciously slowly, filling me again and again. “Do you know how much you mean to me?” he breathes against my ear. “No,” I gasp. He smiles against my neck, and his fingers curl around my jaw and throat, holding me fast for a moment. “Yes, you do. I’m not going to let you go.” I groan as he picks up speed. “You are mine, Anastasia.” “Yes, yours,” I pant. “I take care of what’s mine,” he hisses and bites my ear.