Light (n.) is impossible without shadow, and psychic wholeness is impossible without imperfection.
Light (n.) is, in "Let there be light!", the projection of the most tremendous experience of primeval times: consciousness separating from the unconscious, bringing a world no one had suspected.
Light (n.) won from the unconscious comes with darkness attached: we take on a bright and a dark, and more light means more night.
Light (n.) is known through darkness just as surely as darkness is known through light: the thing is blacker the less it is mixed with white.
Light (n.) lies finely mingled in the dark waters as a spark, held in thrall by darkness — or, in semen and milk, grows into a boundless power.
Light (n.) set circling crystallizes every energy of heaven and earth, of the bright and the dark.
Light (n.) presupposes darkness: a man's shadows may be the very condition of his peculiar gift — darkness fosters vision, obscurity demands clarification.
Light (n.) that shines in the darkness must not only be comprehended by the darkness but comprehend it.
Light (n.) can be born only from indistinguishable night — so nature teaches, while the spirit believes in light born of light.
Light (n.) is the central mystery of philosophical alchemy, almost always personified as the son of the philosophers; Mercurius says, "I beget the light, but the darkness too is of my nature."