Candlelight Quotes Novels & Stories

Fire seems like the only way to make them see, to break the soundproofed barrier trapping me in this suffocating silence. I scan the room, my eyes frantically searching for something to ignite. The moonlight reveals an array of objects, each one a potential accomplice in my desperate quest for recognition. The flickering shadows play along with my erratic heartbeat as I grab a candle from the bathroom. The scented candle in my hand feels like a lifeline as I rush to the bathroom. The idea of setting the room ablaze still lingers, but a flicker of caution remains. I grab the candle, the scent of lavender soothing my senses momentarily. With determination in my eyes, I scan the room for someth

I didn't reply to her but said a word in Latin, immediately the candles flickered as it burned. Our souls were shut in properly now…

He lifted a finger, pointing at one of the candles. “Do you see that?” I followed his gaze, not really sure what I was looking for because the candles on the table were always too much to make out anything out of the ordinary. “I don’t see anything. Why don’t you just tell me what is going o—,” “Her light is back. Her light…it’s flickering.” I squinted my eyes in confusion. “Light? What light are you talking about?” He stepped closer to me, taking my hand and drawing me forward. “Your highness, whose light have we been praying for all these years? Who have we been searching for all these years?”

Did not turn on the light, groping forward in the darkness, she was very relieved, here one thing a piece, are all familiar to her not to be able to be familiar again. All the way forward, unexpectedly, touched the edge of the table, her hand, and fumble on the tabletop for a while, touched an object, 'click', the moment, the fire light up, her hand, holding up the lit match stick, faintly and unnoticeably trembled for a moment, still came to the table with two scented candles, lit up. "Do you still remember, that day, the fire light in the sky, so many people, are watching outside, maybe the fire is too big, maybe I'm too uninviting, so many people only you took the lead and rushed in .....

The last candle still burns, its flame dancing, flickering. I think of the former one. His voice, his hands, his eyes. That first night, forty years ago, when he opened me. When he filled me. When he gave me to myself. I loved you, I think. I still love you. And I will join you soon. The last candle goes out. The rotunda is black, silent. But I know that tomorrow, it will light again. Candles, incense, blood, bodies. The circle continues. Life continues.

A three-tiered cake appeared, candles flickering like stars. “Make a wish,” Henry whispered, voice honeyed, dripping with tenderness. Susan clasped her hands, eyes closed, her face glowing in the candlelight. He looked at her as if she were the only light left in the world. The candle flames from Susan’s birthday cake still burned in my mind when the night sky lit up again. Fireworks burst above the river—too close, too loud, too wild. For a moment, they were beautiful. Then sparks rained where they shouldn’t have. Someone had left a crate too near the crowd. The wood caught; the sparks fell.

"We don’t fight the dark. We echo the light." Raven raised her glass. "To the only firewall that matters: community." Elise added, "To the stories that wouldn’t stay quiet." Sophia looked up at the flickering lights drifting skyward. "And to every echo," she said, "that dares to become a flame."

And though darkness may rise again, the light would always prevail, shining bright against the encroaching shadows, forever and always. -Silver

I prop a bottle of wine open and place it all nicely aranged on the dining table. Is it over doing it, if I put a candle up? I mean, I'm not exactly the romantic type. But I do know this is one of the things you do to make an evening special, right? After searching for a while, I at least find some tea lights. Not the best thing I know, but better than nothing, I guess.

The two of us at the island with the wine and the specific quality of an evening that had been emptied of obligation. The candles that Collins had placed somewhere in the process of the meal being made were doing what candles did, which was change the quality of the light in the room — the specific change of candlelight, which was the change from the functional to the present, the quality of light that said the room is for being in, not for the production of tasks. I was in the room. Not adjacent to it. Not managing it from outside. In it. "Ask me something," I said. He looked at me.