Quotes About Rain

How strange, that bad soil, if the gods send rain and sun, Bears a rich crop, while good soil, starved of what it needs, Is Barren; but man´s nature is ingrained - the bad Is never anything but bad, and the good man Is good: misfortune cannot warp his character, His goodness will endure.

How strange, that bad soil, if the gods send rain and sun, Bears a rich crop, while good soil, starved of what it needs, Is barren; but man's nature is ingrained - the bad Is never anything but bad, and the good man Is good: misfortune cannot warp his character, His goodness will endure.

Outside—and, in one or two places, inside—the rain fell in torrents.

The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain.

The unwelcome November rain had perversely stolen the day's last hour and pawned it with that ancient fence, the night.

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.

Dick walked beside her, feeling her unhappiness, and wanting to drink the rain that touched her cheek.

It was a dark afternoon, threatening rain and the end of the world, and done in that particularly gloomy gray in which only New York afternoons indulge. A breeze was crying down the streets, whisking along battered newspapers and pieces of things, and little lights were pricking out all the windows- it was so desolate that one was sorry for the tops of sky-scrapers lost up there in the dark green and gray heaven.

The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain. I had to follow the sound of it for a moment, up and down, with my ear alone, before any words came through.

While the rain continued it had seemed like the murmur of their voices, rising and swelling a little now and then with gusts of emotion.

Her face, ivory gold against the blurred sunset that strove through the rain…

BinecuvântaÈ›i sunt morÈ›ii peste care cade ploaia

Je les ai regardé une dernière fois, et ils m'ont rendu mon regard, mais de très loin, sur la rive d'une autre vie. J'ai donc quitté la pièce et descendu les marches, sous la pluie, les laissant là, ensemble.

Outside the wind was loud and there was a faint flow of thunder along the Sound. All the lights were going on in West Egg now; the electric trains, men-carrying, were plunging home through the rain from New York. It was the hour of a profound human change, and excitement was generating on the air

the green and cream twilight faded, and the fire-red, gas-blue, ghost-green signs began to shine smokily through the tranquil rain.

The rain was still falling, but the darkness had parted in the west, and there was a pink and golden billow of foamy clouds above the sea. "Look at that," she whispered, and then after a moment: "I'd like to just get one of those pink clouds and put you in it and push you around.

Bénis soient les morts sur qui tombe la pluie.

Le murmure de cette était comme un souffle de vie sous la pluie, et j'en savourai les modulations un instant, pour le seul plaisir de l'oreille, avant que le sens des mots ne m'atteigne. Une petite mèche détrempée glissait contre sa joue comme une trace de peinture bleue et quand je lui ai pris la main pour l'aider à descendre, elle brillait des perles d'eau.

J'avais confondu jusque-là le murmure de la pluie et celui de leurs voix, croyant qu'elles s'élevaient parfois avec de petites bouffées d'émotion.

After the rains departed the skies and settled on earth - clear skies; moist brilliant earth - greater clarity returned to life alone with the blue above and made the world below rejoice with the freshness of the recent rain. It left heaven in our souls and a freshness in our hearts.

Chove. Que fiz eu da vida? Fiz o que ela fez de mim... De pensada, mal vivida... Triste de quem é assim!

Each drop of rain is my failed life weeping in nature.

It's raining, and I suddenly feel the terrible weight of being an animal that doesn't know what it is, dreaming its thought and emotion, withdrawn into a spatial region of being as into a hovel, satisfied by a little heat as by an eternal truth.

It's raining, and as if the rain had made them hunch forward, my feelings lower their stupid gaze to the ground, where water flows and nourishes nothing, washes nothing, cheers up nothing. It's raining, and I suddenly feel the terrible weight of being an animal that doesn't know what it is, dreaming its thought and emotion, withdrawn into a spatial region of being as into a hovel, satisfied by a little heat as by an eternal truth.