I hate the day, because it lendeth light
To see all things, but not my love to see.

Somebody curse the light
And take me far away from myself

What greater torment than to see that light, and then to see it eternally withdrawn?

I hate the day, because it lendeth light To see all things, but not my love to see.

Poor indeed must thou be, if around thee
Thou no ray of light and joy canst throw—

I indignantly answered, “Do you call light what we men call the worst darkness? Do you call day night?”
To this my soul spoke a word that roused my anger, “My light is not of this world.”
I cried, “I know of no other world!”
The soul answered, “Should it not exist because you know nothing of it?

But I must own that I am much in the Dark about Light. I am not satisfy'd with the doctrine that supposes particles of matter call'd light continually driven off from the Sun's Surface, with a Swiftness so prodigious!

Rage, rage against the dying of the light

Light for some time to come will have to be called darkness.

The light has gone out of my life.

Nor power nor pleasure e'er can be enjoyed,
What time they with suspicion are alloyed.

Evil people hate the light because it reveals themselves to themselves. They hate goodness because it reveals their badness; they hate love because it reveals their laziness. They will destroy the light, the goodness, the love in order to avoid the pain of such self-awareness.

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

I cannot bear natural light when I'm writing.