Quotes About Rain

It began to drizzle rain and he turned on the windshield wipers; they made a great clatter like two idiots clapping in church.

In Portland, it rains all the time - but who cares? That's not funny. That's not universal.

When I'm writing, I am concentrating almost wholly on concrete detail: the color a room is painted, the way a drop of water rolls off a wet leaf after a rain.

I don't know why, but rain comes into my head the minute I think of my childhood.

In England, rain was thin and cold, and made you hunch up inside your coat, walking home from the bus stop. In Jamaica, it was wide and thick and invited you to step into it, and see how wet you could get, and be thrilled that it was warmer than the sea and warmer than your skin; it was abandon.

There have been moments when I was on a modeling job, and it was the most fantastic thing in the world. And there have been moments where I've realized, 'Okay, I'm ten years old, and I've spent the past six hours outside in the rain.' It taught me how to be specific about what kinds of projects I wanted to do and what kind of work I wanted to do.

If you're in California, and it's raining, stay home because nobody can drive in the rain. It's like it's raining frogs. They're terrified.

The river has indeed become an inefficient conduit, but the same plaque that plugs this artery used to hold back the flow when it was soil in the hills. Now the land just bleeds when it rains.

The rain lashed down upon Brentford and Pope Alexander VI raised his massive arm and pointed towards Archroy and the young priest. 'You, I will make an example of,' he roared. 'You will know the exquisite agonies of lingering death.' Archroy thumbed his nose. 'Balls,' said he.

En Inglaterra, o en países puritanos, se entiende. Allí hace falta el sol, que es, sin duda alguna, la fuente natural de toda alegría. Y como llueve o nieva, no hay adonde ir; ni a las carreras, siquiera

I remember that a couple, both tall and thin, turned away from a painting and peered over as if I might be an ex-lover or a living (and unfinished) painting that had just got news of the painter's death. I know I walked out without looking back and that I walked for a long time until I realized I wasn't crying, but that it was raining and I was soaked. That night I didn't sleep at all.

Erinnerungen, die leuchten wie ein Betrunkener oder Kranker im Regen.

Escribió, o pensó que escribía: La muerte es mi corazón. Y después: Toma mi corazón. Y después su nombre: Carlos Wieder, sin temerle a la lluvia ni a los relámpagos. Sin temerle, sobre todo, a la incoherencia.

much discomfort was based on human expectations. As a man, I expected to be warm and dry when I chose to be. Animals did not harbor any such beliefs. So it was raining. That part of me that was wolf could accept that. Rain meant being cold and wet. Once I acknowledged that and stopped comparing it to what I wished it to be, the conditions were far more tolerable.

If it was raining soup, you'd be out there with a fork.

Then silence, save for the rain thundering on the roof and splatting on the innyard mud. Silence, save for the soft crackling of the fire, and the distant music from the common room below. Silence but for unsteady footsteps making their way past our door. But most of all, the crashing silence in my heart where for so long Nighteyes' awareness had been a steady beacon in my darkness, a warmth in my winter, a guide star in my night.

Collin Boyd stepped off the Metro bus on his way to work, and across the street he saw himself strolling down the sidewalk. A stubborn but warm February rain was pouring hard across the concrete canyons of downtown. His foot had landed ankle-deep in a drainage puddle, and his half-broken umbrella wasn't extending as it should. But the umbrella, which had

Collin Boyd stepped off the Metro bus on his way to work, and across the street he saw himself strolling down the sidewalk. A stubborn but warm February rain was pouring hard across the concrete canyons of downtown. His foot

Collin increased his own speed, tailing his doppelganger from about fifteen paces behind. The impossibility of the situation seemed like an absurd thing to think about right now as he spied on himself walking to work in the rain, yet nothing else entered his mind. It couldn't be impossible

A stubborn but warm February rain was pouring hard across the concrete canyons of downtown. His foot had landed ankle-deep in a drainage puddle, and his half-broken umbrella wasn't extending as it should. But the umbrella, which had rarely seen use, quickly fell out of his hands

If there is meaning in the past and in the imagined future, it is captured in the moment. When you have all the time in the world, you can spend it, not on going somewhere, but on being where you are. So I stretch out, close my eyes, and listen to the rain.

The atmosphere is possessive of its water. While the clouds are generous with their rain, the sky always calls it back again with the inexorable pull of evaporation.

and we stand there together, grateful in the rain of blessings.

When you have all the time in the world, you can spend it, not on going somewhere, but on being where you are. So I stretch out, close my eyes, and listen to the rain.