I love you like the devil loves his pitchfork. I love you like the angel loves his wings. I love you from here to heaven, through hell and back again.

By Robert Thier

Fear gripped her like hands around the neck, the way it could only happen in an unfamiliar room in the pitch black of night.

By Elin Hilderbrand

the train plunges on through the pitch-black night

By Nazim Hikmet