I see black light (his last words)
She was sad with an obscure sadness of which she had not the secret herself. There was in her whole person the stupor of a life ended but never commenced.
Art moves. Hence its civilizing power.
Youth, even in its sorrows, always has a brilliancy of its own.
A day will come when markets, open to trade, and minds, open to ideas, will become the sole battlefield.
O darkness, the sky is a gloomy precinct Whose door you close, and whose key the soul owns; And night divides itself in half, being diabolical and holy, Between Ilis, the black angel, and Christ, the starry Human Being.