All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
For every dark night, there is a brighter day.
I know it seems hard sometimes but remember one thing. Through every dark night, there's a bright day after that. So no matter how hard it get, stick your chest out, keep ya head up.... and handle it.
Learn From Yesterday, Live for Today, hope for tomorrow.
Through every dark night, there's a bright day after that.
For every single dark night there is a brighter day.
The best way to predict the future is to create it.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Watch your step.
Winning isn't the end of the world
You miss 100% of the shots you don't take.
Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.
The best way to predict the future is to study the past, or prognosticate.
The best way to predict the future is to invent it.
Learn from yesterday, live for today.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with a cash advance.
Trying to be happy without a sense of God’s presence is like trying to have a bright day without the sun.
After big storms there follow bright days.
The word landed with a stony thud Onto my still-beating breast. Nevermind, I was prepared, I will manage with the rest. I have a lot of work to do today; I need to slaughter memory, Turn my living soul to stone Then teach myself to live again. . . But how. The hot summer rustles Like a carnival outside my window; I have long had this premonition Of a bright day and a deserted house.
How else could it have occurred to man to divide the cosmos, on the analogy of day and night, summer and winter, into a bright day-world and a dark night-world peopled with fabulous monsters, unless he had the prototype of such a division in himself, in the polarity between the conscious and the invisible and unknowable unconscious?
He that has light within his own clear breast May sit in the centre, and enjoy bright day: But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the mid-day sun; Himself his own dungeon.
It is common to assume that human progress affects everyone - that even the dullest man, in these bright days, knows more than any man of, say, the Eighteenth Century, and is far more civilized. This assumption is quite erroneous. . . . The great masses of men, even in this inspired republic, are precisely where the mob was at the dawn of history. They are ignorant, they are dishonest, they are cowardly, they are ignoble. They know little if anything that is worth knowing, and there is not the slightest sign of a natural desire among them to increase their knowledge.
It is the bright day that brings forth the adder, and that craves wary walking.
Time seems to pass. The world happens, unrolling into moments, and you stop to glance at a spider pressed to its web. There is a quickness of light and a sense of things outlined precisely and streaks of running luster on the bay. You know more surely who you are on a strong bright day after a storm when the smallest falling leaf is stabbed with self-awareness. The wind makes a sound in the pines and the world comes into being, irreversibly, and the spider rides the wind-swayed web.
Everything is fine and bright. Day must follow every night. My power keeps me safe from harm. The Goddess holds me in her arms.
He that hath light within their own breast, may sit in the centre and enjoy bright day.
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