A Quote by Marie Lu

The boy who walks in the light. — © Marie Lu
The boy who walks in the light.

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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.
The old he-coon walks just before the light of day.
Who ignores the time walks in darkness, and who explores it is illumined by a great light.
When she walks she walks with passion when she talks, she talks like she can handle it when she asks for something, boy she means it she know you would do [anything] to keep her by your side she'll make you work hard make you spend hard make you want all, all of her she'll make you fall real fast [in love].
Who will cry for the little boy, lost and all alone? Who will cry for the little boy, abandoned without his own? Who will cry for the little boy? He cried himself to sleep. Who will cry for the little boy? He never had for keeps. Who will cry for the little boy? He walked the burning sand. Who will cry for the little boy? The boy inside the man. Who will cry for the little boy? Who knows well hurt and pain. Who will cry for the little boy? He died and died again. Who will cry for the little boy? A good boy he tried to be. Who will cry for the little boy, who cries inside of me?
Greek architecture taught me that the column is where the light is not, and the space between is where the light is. It is a matter of no-light, light, no-light, light. A column and a column brings light between them. To make a column which grows out of the wall and which makes its own rhythm of no-light, light, no-light, light: that is the marvel of the artist.
Let him who walks in the dark, who has no light, trust in the name of the Lord and rely on his God.
Cold metal walks across my forehead, spiders search for my heart. It is a light that goes out in my mouth.
Day just smiles at me, an expression so sad that it breaks through my numbness, and I begin to cry. Those bright blue eyes. Before me is the boy who has bandaged my wounds on the streets of Lake, who has guarded his family with every bone in his body, who has stayed by my side in spite of everything, the boy of light and laughter and life, of grief and fury and passion, the boy whose fate is intertwined with mine, forever and always. "I love you," he whispers. "Can you stay awhile?
In my earlier albums like 'Another Year' and 'Just A Boy,' I always saw myself as a bit of a loser - the kind of guy who takes a drink and walks into a wall instead of through the door.
My dream is to find a guy who'll love me despite my flaws and won't turn away from me when a perfect girl walks by. Maybe a boy like that doesn't even exist.
A city is the place of availabilities. It is the place where a small boy, as he walks through it, may see something that will tell him what he wants to do his whole life.
Who fastest walks, but walks astray, Is only furthest from his way.
It's said a friend is a person who walks in when everyone else walks out.
If it's a beautiful day, I love taking walks. The walks are always aimless.
Who walks the fastest, but walks astray, is only furthest from his way.
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