There is nothing more mysterious than blood. Paracelsus considered it a condensation of light. I believe that the Aryan, Hyperborean blood is that — but not the light of the Golden Sun, not of a galactic sun, but of the light of the Black Sun, of the Green Ray.— Miguel Serrano
Sensual Golden Light quotations
To trust God in the light is nothing, but to trust him in the dark, that is faith.
She stood breast-high amid the corn Clasp'd by the golden light of morn, Like the sweetheart of the sun, Who many a glowing kiss had won.
The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie, For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary.
If you want light to come into your life, you need to stand where it is shining.
As hard as I have tried to remember the exact moment when I fell in love with God, I cannot do it. My earliest memories are bathed in a kind of golden light that seemed to embrace me as surely as my mother's arms. The divine presence was strongest outdoors, and most palpable when I was alone.
Clouds of insects danced and buzzed in the golden autumn light, and the air was full of the piping of the song-birds. Long, glinting dragonflies shot across the path, or hung tremulous with gauzy wings and gleaming bodies.
Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering vapors Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet descending from Sinai.
I will love the light for it shows me the way; yet I will love the darkness for it shows me the stars.
Conviction brings a silent, indefinable beauty into faces made of the commonest human clay; the devout worshiper at any shrine reflects something of its golden glow, even as the glory of a noble love shines like a sort of light from a woman's face.
And light has no weight, / Yet one is lifted on its flood, /Swept high, /Running up white-golden light-shafts, /As if one were as weightless as light itself - /All gold and white and light.
Yellow is my favorite, but what is yellow? Handmaiden to white, it is a slight tarnish of pure light. Take away a bit of whites absolute luminosity, and what remains is yellow -- sunlike, golden as a crown, buttercups in a field, marsh marigolds, a finch's wing, a plastic flute.
A candle loses nothing by lighting another candle.
Inside we are all Golden Buddha's, but we grew to believe we were made of clay.
Our ego's false perceptions led us to grow into a belief system that covered our inner light. We've spent years, maybe decades, masking our truth. Now it's time to embrace our light and reconnect with our Golden Buddha within.
Eagle of flowers! I see thee stand, And on the sun's noon-glory gaze;
With eye like his, thy lids expand, And fringe their disk with golden rays: Though fix'd on earth, in darkness rooted there, Light is thy element, thy dwelling air, Thy prospect heaven.
And in the evening, everywhere Along the roadside, up and down, I see the golden torches flare Like lighted street-lamps in the town.
If light is in your heart, you will find your way home.
The Sahara was a spectacle as alive as the sea.
The tints of the dunes changed according to the time of day and the angle of the light: golden as apricots from far off, when we drove close to them they turned to freshly made butter; behind us they grew pink; from sand to rock, the materials of which the desert was made varied as much as its tints.
The golden light of metaphor, which is the intelligence of poetry, was implicit in alchemical study. To change, magically, one substance into another, more valuable one is the ancient function of metaphor, as it was of alchemy.
In moments of considerable strain, I tend to take to bread-and-butter pudding.
There is something about the blandness of soggy bread, the crispness of the golden outer crust and the unadulterated pleasure of a lightly set custard that makes the world seem a better place to live.
If you want to give light to others you habe to glow yourself.
There is a sun, a light that for want of another word I can only call yellow, pale sulphur yellow, pale golden citron. How lovely yellow is!
In this glare of brilliant emptiness, in this arid intensity of pure heat, in the heart of a weird solitude, great silence and grand desolution, all things recede to distrances out of reach, relecting light but impossible to touch, annihilating all thought and all that men have made to a spasm of whirling dust far out on the golden desert.
Even as wisdom often comes from the mouths of babes, so does it often come from the mouths of old people. The golden rule is to test everything in the light of reason and experience, no matter from where it comes.
There is a crack, a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in.
Now, Watson,” said Holmes, as a tall dog-cart dashed up through the gloom, throwing out two golden tunnels of yellow light from its side lanterns. “You’ll come with me, won’t you?” “If I can be of use.” “Oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still more so. My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one.
Visualize a golden light within you and spread it out.
First to those about you - your circle of friends and relatives - and then gradually to the world. Keep on visualizing God's golden light surrounding our earth.
Sleep on, Baby, on the floor, Tired of all the playing, Sleep with smile the sweeter for That you dropped away in! On your curls' full roundness stand Golden lights serenely-- One cheek, pushed out by the hand, Folds the dimple inly.
You have to find what a sparks a light in you so that you in your own way can illuminate the world.
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
It's an old, established rule, but "golden hour" lighting is ideal because the first and last hours of sunlight are diffuse and warm. For that reason, women with photos taken outside during those hours tended to look great.
The little and the great are joined in one By God's great force.
The wondrous golden sun Is linked unto the glow-worm's tiny spark; The eagle soars to heaven in his flight; And in those realms of space, all bathed in light, Soar none except the eagle and the lark.
It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.
Full many a glorious morn I have seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy.
But the golden-rod is one of the fairy, magical flowers;
it grows not up to seek human love amid the light of day, but to mark to the discerning what wealth lies hid in the secret caves of earth.
Ah, when shall all men's good Be each man's rule, and universal peace Lie like a shaft of light across the land, And like a lane of beams athwart the sea, Thro' all the circle of the golden year?
Nothing can dim the light which shines from within.
In the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk.
Their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.
Daniel's face-- the way it had been bathed in violet light when he'd carried her home this morning-- appeared before her eyes. His gleaming golden hair. His tender, knowing eyes. The way one touch of his lips transported her far away from any darkness. For him, she'd suffer all of this, and more.
Good-bye, my moonsong and my breath, my white nights and golden days, my fresh water and my fire. Good-bye, and may you find a better life, find comfort again and your breathless smile, and when your beloved face lights up once more at the Western sunrise, be sure what I felt for you was not in vain. Good-bye and have faith, my Tatiana.
Beauty is not in the face; Beauty is a light in the heart.
The moving light, rejoicing in its strength, Sped from the pyre of pine, and urged its way, In golden glory, like some strange new sun.
I grew up in St. Louis in a tiny house full of large music - Mahalia Jackson and Marian Anderson singing majestically on the stereo, my German-American mother fingering 'The Lost Chord' on the piano as golden light sank through trees, my Palestinian father trilling in Arabic in the shower each dawn.
Because its myriad glimmering plumes Like a great army's stir and wave;
Because its golden billows blooms, The poor man's barren walks to lave: Because its sun-shaped blossoms show How souls receive the light of God, And unto earth give back that glow I thank him for the Goldenrod.
Take a deep breath and exhale slowly.
Mentally picture all tiredness, tension, and fatigue leaving you. Visualize that a wave of golden light is entering you at the top of your head and passing throughout your entire body.
Ali Woodson was one of the few Iconic Soul-Singers left from the Motown Era that could STILL sell out a crowd, light up a party, & make the women scream! Ali & I have loved, fought, flew & cruised these United States together. His raspy but golden tones will be missed but his music, acting & friendship will last in my heart 4-ever.