If you can't see the sun you will be impressed with a street light. If you've never felt thunder and lightning you'll be impressed with fireworks. And if you turn your back on the greatness and majesty of God you'll fall in love with a world of shadows and short-lived pleasures.— John Piper
Wonderful Street Lights quotations
To trust God in the light is nothing, but to trust him in the dark, that is faith.
You've got to try a little kindness, yes show a little kindness Just shine your light for everyone to see. And if you try a little kindness, Then you'll overlook the blindness Of narrow-minded people on the narrow-minded streets.
Billboards, billboards, drink this, eat that, use all manner of things, everyone, the best, the cheapest, the purest and most satisfying of all their available counterparts. Red lights flicker on every horizon, airplanes beware; cars flash by, more lights. Workers repair the gas main. Signs, signs, lights, lights, streets, streets.
If you want light to come into your life, you need to stand where it is shining.
I look out the window and I see the lights and the skyline and the people on the street rushing around looking for action, love, and the world's greatest chocolate chip cookie, and my heart does a little dance.
Advice to children crossing the street: damn the lights.
Watch the cars. The lights ain't never killed nobody.
While women weep, as they do now, I'll fight While little children go hungry, as they do now, I'll fight While men go to prison, in and out, in and out, as they do now, I'll fight While there is a drunkard left, While there is a poor lost girl upon the streets, While there remains one dark soul without the light of God, I'll fight-I'll fight to the very end!
I will love the light for it shows me the way; yet I will love the darkness for it shows me the stars.
You make a right on L, make a left on O, come to a green light and that's when you can go. You keep straight on V, until you come to E, that's when you see a big sign that say's welcome to Love Street.
There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights.
There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone. There is an off-focus light cast by the moon, and the streetlights are part of the spotlight apparatus on a bare stage set up for you to walk through. You get a feeling of being listened to, so you talk aloud, softly, to see how it sounds.
A candle loses nothing by lighting another candle.
she loved to walk down the street with a book under her arm.
It had the same significance for her as an elegant cane for the dandy a century ago. It differentiated her from others.
After the film it was raining, a light steady rain.
Ruthless neon on the wet streets like busted candy.
The world spins along outside, the sun rises and sets, the streets go dark, the lights come on. The future is happening, but it can wait until tomorrow. Neither of us knows what will come next, or where we go from here, or even what anyone will say about us, but none of it matters. We’ve got each other right now.
If light is in your heart, you will find your way home.
And in the evening, everywhere Along the roadside, up and down, I see the golden torches flare Like lighted street-lamps in the town.
What is meant by reality? It would seem to be something very erratic, very undependable -- now to be found in a dusty road, now in a scrap of newspaper in the street, now a daffodil in the sun. It lights up a group in a room and stamps some casual saying
The hero is one who kindles a great light in the world, who sets up blazing torches in the dark streets of life for men to see by. The saint is the man who walks through the dark paths of the world, himself a light.
If you want to give light to others you habe to glow yourself.
For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened - then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret, like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.
The hero is one who kindles a great light in the world, who sets up blazing torches in the dark streets of life for men to see by.
I'd go down to the end of my street, to a garage that had a certain feeling about it, or a particular light; I'd take a picture of a friend who needed a head shot. That's how I learned, instead of having school assignments and learning camera techniques.
There is a crack, a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in.
During the late nights, try to walk in the empty streets with an empty mind! Light of wisdom will soon accompany you!
We wander through old streets, and pause before the age stricken houses;
and, strange to say, the magic past lights them up.
You don't make a photograph just with a camera
You have to find what a sparks a light in you so that you in your own way can illuminate the world.
I was sitting in my office when someone called to tell me two light planes had collided with the World Trade Centre. I turned on my television, before long there was this procession of people of all kinds, walking up the street. What I remember most was the silence of that crowd; there was no sound.
This is what history is: all those centuries of bodies, moving over these canals, twisting and blooming into life in these houses, these streets; all that flesh hungering, coming together, separating, continuing, accumulating, relinquishing, aging and breaking down. Bodies as tulips bent to the demands of light, colored into blossom, spent.
If you find yourself concentrating on the technology rather than the sociology, you're like the vaudeville character who loses his keys on a dark street and looks for them on the adjacent street because, as he explains, "The light is better there."
It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.
Most of us, myself included, have forgotten what real darkness is like.
We live in a world where light is inescapable. It comes from street lamps, headlights, security floodlights, and even the faint glow of our alarm clocks. We take it for granted that we can see at all times of day and night.
I like structure - like driving: go past the school on the street, stay on the right side, no hitting the car, go in right, you'll see a big church, stop and take a left, and you'll have it. By doing this I'm giving a structure of life, a path of light, and showing what happens between me and me, which is something very beautiful.
Here comes old Rosie she's looking mighty fine, here comes hot Nancy she's steppin' right on time. There go the street lights bringing on the night, here come the men faces hidden from the light.
Nothing can dim the light which shines from within.
I came here as a man of visions. I was sent here as a man of visions, like a second Noah. I'm not a Noah but I'm here as a second Noah. I'm here as a red light is in the street.
There is no need for the street lights in the Street of Love; all is already bright in there!
Make up a story... For our sake and yours forget your name in the street; tell us what the world has been to you in the dark places and in the light. Don't tell us what to believe, what to fear. Show us belief's wide skirt and the stitch that unravels fear's caul.
Hope is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you can see it, you'll never make it through the night.
The single most important thing you can do to get elected is to have street money!
The stifled hum of midnight, when traffic has lain down to rest, and the chariot wheels of Vanity, still rolling here and there through distant streets, are bearing her to halls roofed in and lighted to the due pitch for her; and only vice and misery, to prowl or to moan like night birds, are abroad.
Years from now, years and years, one of those ships will bring me back, me and my nine Brazilian brats. Because yes, they must see this, these lights, the river -- I love New York, even though it isn't mine, the way something has to be, a tree or a street or a house, something, anyway, that belongs to me because I belong to it.
I stood within the city disinterred; And heard the autumnal leaves like light footfalls Of spirits passng through the streets; and heard the Mountain's slumberous voice at intervals Thrill through those roofless halls; The oracular thunder penetrating shook The listening soul in my suspended blood.
Somewhere a bicycle bell rings. Somewhere else there's a war on. Somewhere else people turn to shadows and powder in an instant and the streets turn to funnels and light the sky with their burning. Somewhere a war is over.