Quotes About Rain

And there was a tree stump outside the Black Barn everyone called 'Dave's stump' because for over three years, until a few weeks before our arrival, he'd sat on it to read and write, sometimes even when it was raining or cold.

It's not so bad now,' she said, even though the rain was as steady as ever. 'Let's just go out there. Then maybe the sun will come out too.

Y recuerden: aunque el presidente les diga que llueve y parezca muy, muy sincero, miren por la ventana… solo para asegurarse».

Besides, he realized, he could not leave the house without a coat, not because of the rain—he did not mind getting wet—but because of the bulge in front of his clothing that would not subside. He

Aboveground it rained all the time. He had never seen so much rain. It did not come in thunderstorms, or sudden cloudbursts, to be followed by the relief of clear skies and dry weather. Rather, it was a soft drizzle that drifted down all day, sometimes all week, creeping up the legs of his trousers and down the back of his shirt.

Which is just another way of blaming, and perhaps the best way, because there is solace and a certain stoical peace in blaming everything on the rain, and then blaming something as uncontrollable as the rain on something as indifferent as the Arm of the Lord. Because nothing can be done about the rain except blaming. And if nothing can be done about it, why get yourself in a sweat about it?

Which is just another way of blaming, and perhaps the best way, because there is solace and a certain stoical peace in blaming everything on the rain, and then blaming something as uncontrollable as the rain on something as indifferent as the Arm of the Lord.

Rain! whose soft architectural hands have power to cut stones, and chisel to shapes of grandeur the very mountains.

For me, a page of good prose is where one hears the rain and the noise of battle. It has the power to give grief or universality that lends it a youthful beauty.

Es sind tausend Tropfenin einer Weltnur für uns gemachtTausend Tropfenwenn der Himmel weintund man dennoch lacht

Your powers don't work in the rain do they? A little bit of water and your fire fizzles out? So Little Miss Perfect does have a weakness after all!

Prayer is asking for rain and faith is carrying the umbrella.

There are a lot of farmers and ranchers who are struggling. I get on my knees every day. If I had a rain prayer or a rain dance I could do, I would do it.

I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden. Along with sunshine, there's got to be a little rain sometime.

Gust-driven rain spattered back and forth in hesitant indecisive sweeps like a wispy grey soul just arrived on the empty streets of some afterworld, lost and forlorn

uma nuvem preta solitária à procura de chuva.

Amid the tumble of his thoughts the now hesitant raindrops tapped at the windows like a blind man's cane

That sir which serves and seeks for gain,And follows but for form,Will pack when it begins to rain,And leave thee in the storm.

Love comforteth like sunshine after rain.

First Witch: When shall we three meet againIn thunder, lightning, or in rain?Second Witch: When the hurlyburly's done,When the battle's lost and won.

B.C. The seed that met water spoke a little name. (Great sunflowers were lording the air that day; This was before Jesus, before Rome; that other air Was readying our hundreds of years to say things That rain has beat down on over broken stones And heaped behind us in many lands.) Quiet in the earth a drop of water came, And the little seed spoke: "Sequoia is my name.

Rain caused one to reflect on the shadowed, more poignant parts of life—the inescapable sorrows, the speechless longings, the disappointments, the regrets, the cold miseries. It also allowed one the leisure to ponder questions unasked in the bustle of brighter days; and if one were snug under a sound roof, as Abel was, one felt somehow mothered, though mothers were nowhere around, and absolved of responsibilities.

And what the music elicits—in me, in most everyone who hears it and takes to it—is a strangely comforting, sensual melancholy, a gentle sadness, the kind that comes with soft rain. It's the same for all truly great dark art. There's a pleasure in seeing our shadows paraded beautifully. It's liberating to find them so prettily decked out, a sort of reverse Halloween.

A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by, One after one; the sound of rain, and bees Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas, Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky; I have thought of all by turns, and yet do lie Sleepless!