Quotes About Rain

Although what I have basically been doing about the rain is ignoring it, to tell the truth. How I do that is by walking in it. I did not fail to notice that those last two sentences must certainly look like a contradiction, by the way. Even if they are on such thing. One can very agreeably ignore a rain by walking in it. In fact it is when one allows a rain to prevent one from walking in it that one is failing to ignore it.

One can very agreeably ignore a rain by walking in it. In fact it is when one allows a rain to prevent one from walking in it that one is failing to ignore it. Surely by saying, dear me, I will get soaked through and through if I walk in this rain, for instance, one is in no way ignoring the rain.

Judy Nylon, who as a child had sought succour from her parents' escapist 'exotica' albums and regularly drifted off to sleep to the lulling vibraphones of Martin Denny's Quiet Village, recalls a slightly different version of events: 'So it was pouring rain in Leicester Square

Victor smiled politely in return, the way someone smiles when they're thanked for having done a minor favor in times past. Held open a door in the rain, lent someone a small amount of money, butchered an ex-lover, that sort of thing.

The rain wasn't the usual glittering silver, but dark and dirty, as if nature were a scrubwoman wringing out a filthy mop.

The hard rain nailed the night to the city.

The sky was black and spitting rain on my smiling face.

Yet the misty spring rain softened the outline of the mountain across the river and made it even more beautiful. So gentle was the rain that they hardly knew they were getting wet as they strolled back toward the car, not even bothering to put up their umbrella. The slender threads of rain vanished into the river without a ripple. Cherry blossoms were intermingled with young green leaves, the colours of the budding trees all delicately subdued in the rain.

But, drawn to her at that moment, he felt a quiet like the voice of the rain flow over him. He knew well enough that for her it was in fact no waste of effort, but somehow the final determination that it was had the effect of distilling and purifying the woman's existence.

I could not bear the silences when the drum stopped. I sank down into the depths of the sound of the rain.

Morning dawned bright and sparkling after the rain. The air was keen and crisp. The cedars glistened as if decked with diamonds. Pan felt the sweet scent of the damp dust, and it gave him a thrill and a longing for the saddle and the open country.

Really, I didn't like Alaska. It rained, almost every day, at least 300 days out of the year.

romántico hasta sentir el estado de dolorosa melancolía que provoca una simple garúa que agrisa el patio

Tears of joy are like the summer rain drops pierced by sunbeams.

He was already tired of the rain. He never took long to grow weary of it in winter, though he liked it in the summertime when it fell hard, silver and green, and afterward steamed from the backs of horses, steamed up from the railroad ties and lay in a mist along Town Creek. In summer, the birds sang after a rain, but no such music rose from the cold drizzle of the dead time. Only silence, and only the dark.

Rain says a noise: shh. You can hear it when it comes down. It is God telling us to be quiet.

I was shown into a room. A red room. Red wallpaper, red curtains, red carpet. They said it was a sitting-room, but I don't know why they'd decided to confine its purpose just to sitting. Obviously, sitting was one of the things you could do in a room this size; but you could also stage operas, hold cycling races, and have an absolutely cracking game of frisbee, all at the same time, without having to move any of the furniture. It could rain in a room this big.

Let us toast to animal pleasures, to escapism, to rain on the roof and instant coffee, to unemployment insurance and library cards, to absinthe and good-hearted landlords, to music and warm bodies and contraceptives... and to the "good life", whatever it is and wherever it happens to be.

Rain, after all is only rain; it is not bad weather. So also, pain is only pain; unless we resist it, then it becomes torment.

The truth is not always useful, not always good. It's like putting your faith in water. Yes, we need the rain, but too much can sweep you away in a flood and drown you. Like all great natural, elemental forces, the truth needs to be channeled, managed, controlled and intelligently, morally allocated.

yes, just another monsoon day out there in the Big City …

Kilimanjaro West THREE DAYS HE HAD been watching the rain. Still he could not understand it.

Sometimes he irritated her so much that she wanted to throw him back to the rain. The way he sat, the way he watched; watched, watched; what? Rain. And his questions, his utter and absolute ignorance.

the monsoon rains rained, rained, rained down on the streets of Yu. And he would watch them, and the questions would begin again. So much he did not understand about the condition of being human.