Quotes About Rain

Debs stood in the rain and watched him go, which I am sure she intended to make Wilkins nervous enough to leap from the car and confess, but considering the weather it struck me as excessive zeal. I got into the car and waited for her.

loved the sound of the rain on the metal roof

During a warm winter rain ... the basins of her collarbones collected water.

But it rained all the time, fog covered the fields, and by then he was reading Tolstoy. There were some books that reached through the noise of life to grab you by the collar and speak only of the truest things. A Confession was a book like that.

Cecilia appeared in our consciousness at odd moments, most often as we were just waking up, or staring out a car-pool window streaked with rain—she rose up in her wedding dress, muddy with the afterlife, but then a horn would honk, or our radio alarms would unleash a popular song, and we snapped back to reality.

Can I tell you something about Seattle? Everyone there is a filthy liar. They're all, 'Don't move to Seattle—it's so rainy!' And yet every time I've been there, a tiny amount of rain falls before the whole sky explodes into rainbows and sunlight. Seattleites mean to hog up all the stunning vistas and good coffee and flowering bushes for themselves. Bet on it.

Every time Suzanne thinks about her mother's sulfur-blue eyes it rains.

Remammo tutto quel giorno sotto la pioggia, e fu una fatica melanconica. Facemmo le viste, in principio, di divertirci un mondo. Dicemmo ch'era un diversivo, e che ci piaceva vedere il fiume sotto tutti i suoi diversi aspetti. Non potevamo aspettarci d'aver sempre sole, né l'avremmo voluto. E poi la natura era bella anche quando piangeva.

It was the day of the worms. That first almost-warm, after-the-rainy-night day in April, when you bolt from your house to find yourself in a world of worms. They were as numerous here in the East End as they had been in the West. The sidewalks, the streets. The very places where they didn't belong. Forlorn, marooned on concrete and asphalt, no place to burrow, April's orphans.

I am rain. I like that most of all, being rain.

According to my dad, there were three perfect smells in this world: Fresh-cut grass. A campfire at the edge of a redwood forest. The jubilance of rich black dirt after a thunderstorm.

It didn't rain today, so I didn't have to work. Why don't you have to sit around and wait until it rains?

Anyone who says sunshine brings happiness has never danced in the rain.

As against having beautiful workshops, studios, etc., one writes best in a cellar on a rainy day.

On the late afternoon streets, everyone hurries along, going about their own business. Who is the person walking in front of you on the rain-drenched sidewalk? He is covered with an umbrella, and all you can see is a dark coat and the shoes striking the puddles. And yet this person is the hero of his own life story. He is the love of someone's life. And what he can do may change the world. Imagine being him for a moment. And then continue on your own way.

It started to rain overhead, big sloppy droplets, but only in their immediate vicinity of about five feet. However, this being England, no one was particularly flummoxed even by such a particularly localized, extraordinarily specific example of maudlin weather.

Sharing one umbrella, We have to hold each other, Round the waist to keep together, You ask me why I'm smiling- It's because I'm thinking, I want it to rain forever.

But like so many things in Japan, behind the façade lay another view. So it was only after I had hiked into the woods far from the bridge that I found a fluttering world of persimmon, ocher, scarlet, and cabernet secreted away in a mossy garden of curving stone paths. When it began to rain, the colors deepened and the leaves, shaped like a baby's hands, spiraled down onto the plush green carpet and sleek dark rocks.

Blame is just an echo of pain, a veil across the face of the one you blame. I blame God. I want to complain to the boss of God about God. What if the boss of God is rain and the only way to speak to rain is to open your mouth to the sky and drown?

But maybe I am wrong, how death is simply death, each slightly different from the next but the final strike all the same. How the skin responds to a wedding dress in the same way it responds to rain.

There are times of great beauty on a coffee farm. When the plantation flowered in the beginning of the rains, it was a radiant sight, like a cloud of chalk, in the mist of the drizzling rain.

I woke to the sound of rain.

I try to find the beauty in things. On dark days, I sit in my armchair looking at clouds and I am awed at how rain is made.

What do you think of that? It's stopped raining." I'm glad Jay." Her throat, full of aching, grieving beauty, told only of her unexpected joy.