Hope is patience with the lamp lit.
Even a single lamp dispels the deepest darkness.
Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come.
If you want a love message to be heard, it has got to be sent out. To keep a lamp burning, we have to keep putting oil in it.
To keep a lamp burning, we have to keep putting oil in it.
Like a lamp, dispelling the darkness of ignorance
No one lights a lamp in order to hide it behind the door: the purpose of light is to create more light, to open people's eyes, to reveal the marvels around.
In order to keep the lamp burning you have to keep putting the oil in it.
Be lamps unto yourselves; be your own confidence. Hold truth within yourselves.
I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience.
All darkness vanished, when I saw the Lamp within my heart.
There are persons so radiant, so genial, so kind, so pleasure-bearin g, that you instinctively feel in their presence that they do you good; whose coming into a room is like bringing a lamp there.
Love cannot endure indifference. It needs to be wanted. Like a lamp, it needs to be fed out of the oil of another's heart, or its flame burns low.
Why should the lamp or the house be an art object but not our life?
There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.
Be a lamp, or a lifeboat, or a ladder.
I would not give much for your religion unless it can be seen. Lamps do not talk, but they do shine.
Courage is adversity's lamp.
Listening is a lamp that dispels the darkness of ignorance.
Life is not a series of gig lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end.
The lamps are different, but the Light is the same. One matter, one energy, one Light, one Light-mind, endlessly emanating all things.
The lamp burns bright when wick and oil are clean.
Tell me what you feel in your room when the full moon is shining in upon you and your lamp is dying out, and I will tell you how old you are, and I shall know if you are happy.
Not, not mine: it's somebody else's wound; I could never have borne it. So take the thing that happened, hide it, stick it in the ground; whisk the lamps away.
People are so ridiculous with their illusions, carrying their fool's caps unawares, thinking their own lies opaque while everybody else's are transparent, making themselves exceptions to everything, as if when all the world looked yellow under a lamp they alone are rosy.
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