Quotes About Rain

Then there was only the sound of the rain outside in the endless blackness of the long night and, presently, the rising tones of a pitiful wailing within and without, spreading across the station, the town, and the land without end.

The rain battered the cottage. Valkyrie risked a look up at Skulduggery. "What is it?" she whispered. "It's a box," he whispered back. "What kind of box?" "A wooden one." She gave him a look.

She started reading. She didn't mean to spend long at it, but soon she was devouring every word, oblivious to the creaking old home and the rain outside.

And The Darkness Rained Upon Them. The

It rained in the Middle West. Farmers are learning that the relief they get from the sky beats what they get from Washington.

Clouds come floating into my life from other days no longer to shed rain or usher storm but to give colour to my sunset sky.

Rain is grace; rain is the sky descending to the earth; without rain, there would be no life.

A soaking rain had just stopped, and his boots sank deeply into the nitrogen-rich soil. The entire orchard smelled of wet wood and ripe fruit. It was a strong dizzying scent, and nothing else was quite like it- though his grandfather used to say this smell was identical to the limestone caves of Lower Normandy: cold and dripping, where cask upon cask of Calvados, the great fortified apple brandy of Norman lords, slept away the years.

Rain pounded on the Packard, reverberating through the car and into her bones. The wipers going full speed, banging on the steel frame of the windshield like a metronome out of control, she still could not see more than a few feet in front of her.

The rain comes down harder, darkness falls. We don't care. Together in our house, in the firelight, we are the world made small.

The rain comes down harder as I write. It sheets off the roof in torrents. I wish it would pound against me. Pound the life from my body. The flesh from my bones. The pain from my heart.

Thousands of musical voices, like rain on water, beckoned.

Love is a soft thing. It smells like woodsmoke and sounds like rain. It tastes like sugared apples. It costs nothing to give yet is more precious than a sea of diamonds.

It was starting to rain, big sloppy drops spilling onto the windshield. No thunder yet. His driving was stymied by a clobbering sensation of loss. But what exactly had he lost? Himself as he had been, firm-bodied and flabby-minded? Some clarity of vision he once had possessed? Or was it the old, dormant chamber of his bicameral mind calling out to him, reminding him of the days when rocks and trees and statues had spoken with the voices of gods?

Sasha looked at the windowpane, rinsed continually with rain, smearing lights in the falling dark. She lay with her body tensed, claiming the couch, her spot in this room, her view of the window and the walls, the faint hum that was always there when she listened, and these minutes of Coz's time: another, then another, then one more.

Late in the afternoon the sky changed to pale gray and there was rain in the air, the atmosphere close and stifling, and a silence clung heavily to the flat colorless plain.

The old church tower and garden wall Are black with autumn rain And dreary winds foreboding call The darkness down again

Oh, for the time when I shall sleep ?without identity. and never care how rain may steep, ?or snow may cover me –

All day had been flooding with rain; we could not go to church, so Joseph must needs get up a congregation in the garret; and, while Hindley and his wife were basked downstairs before a fire … Heathcliff, myself and the unhappy plough-boy were commanded to take out Prayer-books and mount - we were ranged in a row, on a sack of corn, groaning and shivering, and hoping that Joseph would shiver too, so that he might give us a short homily for his own sake. A vain idea!

SUMMER SHOWER. A drop fell on the apple tree, Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook, That went to help the sea. Myself conjectured, Were they pearls, What necklaces could be! The dust replaced in hoisted roads, The birds jocoser sung; The sunshine threw his hat away, The orchards spangles hung. The breezes brought dejected lutes, And bathed them in the glee; The East put out a single flag, And signed the fete away.

I think the sea's just rain and salt." "Ever taste a tear?" asks Grandma. "Yeah." "Well, that's the same as the sea." I still don't want to walk in it if it's tears.

None of this dirt is yours, I told her. You're as clean as rain. She kissed me, but on the forehead this time.

Jewell Stewark smiled at me from a billboard, the rain giving her face tears.

There was an iron-gray sky above a black tumbling sea; and the rain, driven by a mad wind, smote the face like a blow from a passionate hand.