“My whole life is a dark room. One big dark room.”

Sandworms…you know I hate ’em!

I wonder where a guy, an everyday Joe like myself can find a little action.

These aren’t my rules. Come to think of it. I don’t have any rules.

Well, I’ve read through that handbook for the recently deceased. It says, ‘live people ignore the strange and unusual. I, myself, am strange and unusual.

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes.

When we were in the Dark Ages, it was a question of humanity somehow managing to forget about itself. We put God in the centre of society, and people forgot about their own nature and desires. There was a huge deal of repression.

We work in the dark — we do what we can — we give what we have.

The Earth is beautiful, and bright, and kindly, but that is not all. The Earth is also terrible, and dark, and cruel. The rabbit shrieks dying in the green meadows.

Life goes on, even if two-headed and glowing faintly in the dark.

Our roots are in the dark; the earth is our country.

Roll on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops with the shore.

A snowy, moonlit peak, with its single star, soaring up to the passionate blue; or against the flames of sunset, an old yew-tree standing dark guardian of some fiery secret.