Still, the one who best understands the significance of light is not the electrician, not the painter, not the photographer, but the man who has lost his sight in adulthood.
Ye living lamps, by whose dear light The nightingale does sit so late
I could have wept from the relief of light.
Are you not more to me than my own light and life?
The pupil dilates in darkness and in the end finds light, just as the soul dilates in misfortune and in the end finds God.
We are all broken—that's how the light gets in.