Quotes About Rain

This mizzle fits me like a sad jacket.

I am I, with all the individuality of an earthworm. After a rain, who knows the unique pink worm by the twist of its elastic segments. Only the guts of the worm know. And it is nothing to crush the yellow liquid intestines under a casual heel.

When we came out of the sunnily lit interior of the Ladies' Day offices, the streets were gray and fuming with rain. It wasn't the nice kind of rain that rinses. you clean, but the sort of rain I imagine they must have in Brazil. It flew straight down from the sky in drops the size of coffee saucers and hit the hot sidewalks with a hiss that sent clouds of steam writhing up from the gleaming, dark concrete.

Today is the first of August. It is hot, steamy and wet. It is raining. I am tempted to write a poem. But I remember what it said on one rejection slip: After a heavy rainfall, poems titled RAIN pour in from across the nation.

It was inestimably important for me to look at the lights of Amherst town in the rain, with the wet black tree-skeletons against the limpid streetlights and gray November mist, and then look at the boy beside me and feel all the hurting beauty go flat because he wasn't the right one-not at all.

I laid my face to the smooth face of the marble and howled my loss into the cold salt rain

One of our oracles tells us, 'Rain falls, dew rises. Between is mist. Between is all that is.' Let that be your answer, manchild. Do not brood too much over what went before or worry too much over what is to come. Between those two is everything that matters—all that is.

The rain of Madre de Dios is similar to that of the Amazon, but there is a petrifying aspect to it, as if it seeks to wound rather than to nurture.

The porters could always be coaxed to continue a little further through driving rain by the mere suggestion of a Pot Noodle at the end.

Jane," he said. "Jane, a pane of crystal, the sound of rain falling on the silken grain of marble, a slender, pale chain of a name.

If I could just give myself to the steady peace of the rain. That lovely steady peace.

Rain makes applesauce. Oh, you're just talking silly talk!

A rose lay open in full bloom and, looking from my garden room, I watched the sun-baked flower fill with rain. It seemed so fragile, resting there, and such a silence filled the air, the beauty of the moment caused me pain. "What more?" I thought. "There must be more." As if in answer then, I saw one weighty drop that caused my rose to fall. It trembled, then cascaded down to earth just staining gentle brown and, since then, I've felt different. That's all.

As if you could pick in love, as if it were not a lightning bolt that splits your bones and leaves you staked out in the middle of the courtyard. (...) You don't pick out the rain that soaks you to the skin when you come out of a concert.

Cuando llovía me entraba el agua hasta el alma

Vos no elegís la lluvia que te va a calar hasta los huesos cuando salís de un concierto.

Cómo si se pudiera elegir en el amor. Cómo si no fuera un rayo que te parte los huesos y te deja estaqueado en la mitad del patio... Vos no elegís la lluvia que te va a calar hasta los huesos cuando salís de un concierto

Pero no le escribo por eso, esta carta se la envío a causa de los conejitos, me parece justo enterarla; y porque me gusta escribir cartas, y tal vez porque llueve.

una inútil ansia de tener lástima de algo, de que llueva aquí dentro, de que por fin empiece a llover, a oler a tierra, a cosas vivas, sí, por fin a cosas vivas.

Llevarse de la mano a la Maga, llevársela bajo la lluvia como si fuera el humo del cigarrillo, algo que es parte de uno, bajo la lluvia.

Sólo alcanzaba a advertir la casa triste, que Rema estaba como cansada, que apenas llovía y las cosas tenían, sin embargo, algo de húmedo y abandonado

Chuva, chuva. Continuaria Berthe Trépat tocando piano?

El tiempo, es una lluvia paciente y amarilla que apaga poco a poco los fuegos más violentos

There was so much feeling in the world. So much sadness. So much longing. So much joy. Everything had a soul. The petals of flowers. The mice of the field. The clouds and rain and the bare limbs of trees. All