A Quote by Conrad Aiken

I ascend from darkness And depart on the winds of space for I know not where; My watch is wound, a key is in my pocket, And the sky is darkened as I descend the stair.
Oh! Stars and clouds and winds, ye are all about to mock me; if ye really pity me, crush sensation and memory; let me become as nought; but if not, depart, depart, and leave me in darkness.
The stars drew light across the night sky in that little mountain village, and the silence and the cold made the darkness vanish away. It was - I don't know how to explain it - as if everything solid melted away into the ether, eliminating all individualtiy and absorbing us, rigid, into the immense darkness. Not a single cloud to lend perspective to the space blocked any portion of the starry sky.
The other side of midnight’s hour strikes a herald thrice rung Seer, Shadow, Sun—together they come Sixteen winters hence—the light shall be eclipsed Leaving darkness to ascend beneath a sky bleeding fire
Imagine any problem you have to be a huge, locked door standing in front of you. Now see yourself taking a golden key out of your pocket. You brought the key here with you when you arrived on this planet, but you sometimes forget to use it. See yourself putting it into the keyhole, then watch the door swing open. On the key are inscribed these words, "Unconditional Love."
I think the time is ripe for a return to the refinement of lifestyle that the pocket watch embodies. A personal pleasure that you know you have in your pocket, which requires an elegant gesture to use and show to others.
If you want to ascend like the Prophet to the sky of immortality, know this very well: Fasting is your Arabian stallion.
The gesture of taking the watch from the pocket and looking at the time is very elegant for a man, but if I was going to create a pocket watch, I wanted it to be very modern. I didn't want to do old-fashioned.
The winds that blow through the wide sky in these mounts, the winds that sweep from Canada to Mexico, from the Pacific to the Atlantic - have always blown on free men.
E'en in mid-harvest, while the jocund swain Pluck'd from the brittle stalk the golden grain, Oft have I seen the war of winds contend, And prone on earth th' infuriate storm descend, Waste far and wide, and by the roots uptorn, The heavy harvest sweep through ether borne, As light straw and rapid stubble fly In dark'ning whirlwinds round the wintry sky.
A black star appears, a point of darkness in the night sky's clarity. Point of darkness and gateway to repose. Reach out, pierce the fine fabric of the sheltering sky, take repose.
And indeed there will be time To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?" Time to turn back and descend the stair, With a bald spot in the middle of my hair.
When the light of the star which flows into my eyes as a drop of gold first pierced the darkness in space, there was not a single eye on earth looking at the sky.
The Mexicans descend from the Aztecs; the Peruvians descend from the Incas; the Argentineans descend from the boats.
And sometimes people say, 'Oh well, we all descend from Adam and Eve.' But do you descend from Charlemagne directly? Do you descend from Saint King Louis IX? I do.
In all societies, it is advisable to associate if possible with the highest; not that the highest are always the best, but because, if disgusted there, we can descend at any time; but if we begin with the lowest, to ascend is impossible.
The unfortunate thing is that I live next door to the pub they all drink in. So if I leave my light on and they know I'm in, they all descend on me. I know it's nice, but it's a bit of a bummer if you're trying to watch EastEnders.
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