Nothing in the universe can travel at the speed of light, they say, forgetful of the shadow's speed.
How can I be substantial if I do not cast a shadow? I must have a dark side also If I am to be whole
Like strange mechanical grotesques, Making fantastic arabesques, The shadows raced across the blind.
Many men spend their lives in gazing at their own shadows, and so dwindle away into shadows thereof.
I am always humbled by the infite ingenuity of the Lord, who can make a red barn cast a blue shadow.
This visible world is a trace of that invisible one and the former follows the latter like a shadow.
The world is all a carcass and vanity, The shadow of a shadow, a play And in one word, just nothing.