Candlelight Quotes Novels & Stories

I asked and she smiled faintly at me "I don't know Rory, but we would lit candles all over the cactus, wouldn't you love that?" She asked me and i giggled softly Levare's candlelight has always and will always be my best time of the year, seeing I get to lit candles all over the Cactus and sing, I'm Aurora Martin, Rory for short

“You’re a lucky one. Someone will make very good use of that fire one day.” Pelin shot upright, heat rushing to her face. “W-what does that even mean?” Pareia only winked, her hips swaying lazily as she turned away, swagging with deliberate irritation. “You will figure it out, I’m sure” she said light hearted.I cleared my throat and smiled as I gave Pelin a subtle side glance, “Ehmn, Light. The answer is light. A candle flies without wings. It cries and melts without having eyes. And wherever a candle goes, it brings light and eliminates the darkness.”

Taking it from his hand, I placed the candle firmly at the centre, adhering it with a few drops of wax. Then, I waded into the shallow waters, the cool liquid caressing my ankles, as I released the candle to embark on its nocturnal journey. The flickering flame became a beacon, casting its warm glow upon the water. The silent ripples echoed the anticipation in my heart as the floating emissary began its voyage toward the moon's reflection.

he smiled as he finished my sentence. It was a quote from Romeo & Juliet. Something we both learned from being in Hallee's play. "Exactly," I smiled back. For a second there, we just smiled and stared at each other. He had a glint in his eyes, a playful one. And suddenly, he pulled himself up. "Hey, come on, there's something I wanna do," he said, giving his hand out to me. I took his hand as he pulled me up. Then he went to his jacket pocket and started raiding it for something. Finally, he took out his lighter and the pack of cigarettes.

Among the crowd, a quiet voice from a timid cub asked, “Luna, what if my light is too small?” Zuri knelt down beside him, her eyes kind and reassuring. “No light is ever too small,” she said gently. “A single spark can ignite a great fire, and even the tiniest flame can lead the way in darkness. Your light, no matter how small you may think it is, is precious. It is part of the constellation that guides us all.” The cub’s eyes lit up with a newfound hope, and he nodded as if he understood.

He didn't need to say anything because the moment he picked up a candle from the table in front of him and held it up, everyone knew what it meant and they all brought out their candles and raised them. Cinnia did the same and with a simple chant, the light from the overhead, hanging bulbs, and pole lamps died down while the candles lit up the night around them. "It's been six months since we lost some people very dear to us. Our friends, mates, brothers, and sisters. Their sacrifice is one that we will never forget. They may be gone from this world but we will always, always carry them with us...in our hearts. In us, they remain immortal," Denzel said and blew out his candle and everyone el

Something about it that made her want to keep it to herself. "Et lux in tenebris lucet." "What?" "It means, 'and light shines in darkness'." The male who had spoken was now in front of her. As custom for the night, he was wearing a mask just like they all were, and yet, through the light she could see the fire in his eyes. It made a rumble start in her stomach. "Is that a new pick up line?" He grinned as he reached her. "I just thought you'd appreciate the arts like I do." In his hands were two wine glasses. "I saw you around, and I must say —"

Rocco’s absence is everywhere, and in the shattered quiet, we cling to each other, desperate not to lose anyone else. Farewell in Shadows and Candlelight The morning of Rocco Karno’s funeral dawned somber and gray, the sun reluctant to break through a sky weighted with sorrow. The city outside our windows seemed to pause, holding its breath as if aware of the gravity within our home. No one spoke above a whisper that day; even the wind was careful, threading itself quietly around the corners of our grieving estate. Inside, the walls bore silent witness to our heartbreak. Candles, flickering with fragile hope, lined the hallways and filled the rooms with their trembling light. For nights lead

She had cried until there was nothing left to pour out, yet the tears still came, silently, endlessly. The priest, a tall man with a gentle yet commanding voice, stood before the casket. His voice carried through the crowd as he began the sermon. “Life,” he said, pausing briefly as the wind brushed through his white robe, “is like a candle. It burns bright and gives warmth, but eventually, it flickers out. And when it does, it leaves behind memories — the true mark of who we were and how we lived.” Heads bowed. Some wept quietly. Others clasped their hands in prayer.

The words were partially distorted but I heard them clearly enough. “Direct hit. No survivors possible. You know what this was.” The other man did not answer. They went back to work. Standard procedure. The camera panned across the crater. Slow. Methodical. Documenting. Halfway through the pan it caught something at the outer edge. A small glass jar. Cracked but not shattered. Inside it, the remains of a candle. The same kind Laila used on the beach that night. The same kind she kept on every surface in our house because she said candlelight made every room feel like it was exhaling.