Quotes About Winds

I am so thankful He sees our potential among the ruins and chooses to reignite our flame when the harsh winds of life try to extinguish our fire or the pressures of this world seem to snuff out our dreams.

You could not stop the winds and you could not stop Time. It went on and on, -and on.

Oh! Stars and clouds and winds, ye are all about to mock me; if ye really pity me, crush sensation and memory; let me become as nought; but if not, depart, depart, and leave me in darkness.

The very winds whispered in soothing accents, and maternal Nature bade me weep no more.

And ShadowClan holds power over there, in the darkest part of the forest," added Graypaw, flicking his head sideways. "The elders say that the cold winds from the north blow over the ShadowClan cats and chill their hearts.

I finally felt myself lifted definitively away on the winds of adventure toward worlds I envisaged would be stranger than they were, into situations I imagined would be much more normal than they turned out to be.

Eternity is non evident. There's this endless rotation of the sun in the skull, the stillness outside, and a storm within. At least a river is always flowing in some part of the country. Winds, always gathering speed, shatter the order of things. We return home, in tears.

'Tis Autumn! and the short'ning day, The chilly evening's sober gray, And winds that hoarser blow; The fading foliage of the trees, Which rustles sere in every breeze, The approach of Winter show.

The days go by, never monotonous. Even when they appear exactly alike they are never quite the same. That is what gives life at sea its special dimension, made up of contemplation and very simple contrasts. Sea, winds, calms, sun clouds, porpoises. Peace, and the joy of being alive in harmony.

Where do the winds go? What does the rain know? Where is the egg when the bird has flown? Where does the moon sleep? What makes the sea deep? Where is the soul when the breast is bone? What makes the mouth sing? What loves listening? Where is the tune when the song is done? Where is our joined heart, when at last our hands part And we have returned to be sea, to be sun?

And after these things I saw four angels standing on the four corners of the earth, holding the four winds of the earth, that the wind should not blow on the earth, nor on the sea, nor on any tree.

Noon bells sang out with their usual ignorance of mood, marking out moments of grief and worry, elation and confusion. The bells said that at its core, human life was fundamentally a sort of organic clockwork, while the winds and skylarks that swept against the sound of metronomic iron timekeeping argued for variety, subtlety, epiphany.

a demand for money being, of all the winds that blow upon love, the coldest and most destructive.

And love, who can say the way it winds.. like a serpent in the garden of our untroubled minds

Big rocks are envy of little sands because little sands can travel with the winds. Every littleness has its own big advantages!

Let us depart! the universal sun Confines not to one land his blessed beams; Nor is man rooted, like a tree, whose seed, the winds on some ungenial soil have cast there, where it cannot prosper.

The oldOld winds that blewWhen chaos was, what doThey tell the clattered trees that IShould weep?

We're so old that the winds of age echo along our ribs and pick at our eye sockets. We could be gone tomorrow. A chill, say, or a little slip on the cliff side. I feel as fragile as a dried flower. I rattle a little in the moving air, but I'm only coherent dust-a shape of what once was. My essence is going.

Love is like a wind stirring the grass beneath trees on a black night.... You must not try to be definite and sure about it and to live beneath the trees, where soft night winds blow, the long hot day of disappointment comes swiftly and the gritty dust from passing wagons gathers upon lips inflamed and made tender by kisses.

When Spring is old, and dewy windsBlow from the south, with odors sweet,I see my love, in shadowy groves,Speed down dark aisles on shining feet.

Hold fast To the law Of the last Cold tome, Where the earth Of the truth Lies thick On the page, And the loam Of faith In the ink Long fled From the drone Of the nib Flows on Through the breath Of the bone Reborn In a dawn Of doom Where blooms The rose For the winds The child For the tomb The thrush For the hush Of song, The corn For the scythe And the thorn In wait For the heart Till the last Of the first Depart, And the least Of the past Is dust And the dust Is lost. Hold fast!

Opportunity will be hidden among the chaos. Storms clean the oceans, winds carry the seeds.

our lives are like a voyage across an unknown sea and sometimes we get tired of calm waters and gentle winds, and we have no choice but to slam the steering oar's loom hard over and head for the grey clouds and the whitecaps and the tumult of danger.

Three passions, simple but overwhelmingly strong have governed my life: the longing for love, the search for knowledge, and unbearable pity for the suffering of mankind. These passions, like great winds, have blown me hither and thither, in a wayward course, over a deep ocean of anguish, reaching to the very verge of despair.