Quotes About Atmosphere

They went along a balcony that looked down over the dining room and the dance floor. The lisp of hot jazz came up to them from the lithe, swaying bodies of a high-yaller band. With the lisp of jazz came the smell of food and cigarette smoke and perspiration. The balcony was high and the scene down below had a patterned look, like an overhead camera shot. (Nevada Gas)

The big man leaned down from his hips and bent his knees a little and breathed in my face. 'What for did you call me Hemingway, pally?' 'There are ladies present.

The elevator had a carpeted floor and mirrors and indirect lighting. It rose as softly as the mercury in a thermometer.

A rua estava escura de qualquer coisa mais que a noite.

The eighty-five cent dinner tasted like a discarded mailbag and was served to me by a waiter who looked as if he would slug me for a quarter, cut my throat for six bits, and bury me at sea in a barrel of concrete for a dollar and a half, plus sales tax.

The air was thick, wet, steamy and larded with the cloying smell of tropical orchids in bloom.

I went to the door and looked out. The cool night breeze was blowing peacefully down the hall. No excited neighbors hung out of doorways. A small gun had gone off and broken a pane of glass, but noises like that don't mean much any more.

It was raining again the next morning, a slanting grey rain like a swung curtain of crystal beads.

and the rain blew in under the porch, not as cold as her lips.

A thousand white houses built up and down the hills, ten thousand lighted windows and the stars hanging down over them politely, not getting too close, on account of the patrol.

This was more like it, a narrowed cluttered little shop stacked with books from floor to ceiling and four or five browsers taking their time- putting thumb marks on the new jackets. Nobody paid any attention to them.

The air-conditioned room was full of cold, but Lipshultz was sweating.

His office had the musty smell of years of routine.

The room was suddenly full of heavy silence, like a fallen cake. I went on out, parting the silence as if I was pushing my way through water.

The place was horrible by daylight. The Chinese junk on the walls, the rug, the fussy lamp, the teakwood stuff, the sticky riot of colors, the totem pole, the flagon of ether and laudanum - all this in the daytime had a stealthy nastiness, like a fag party.

The main hallway looked just the same. The portrait over the mantel had the same hot black eyes and the knight in the stained-glass window still wasn't getting anywhere untying the naked damsel from the tree.

a cloud of pulsating light, it enveloped

The IPCC report explains that every single metric ton of carbon dioxide we prevent from entering the atmosphere lessens the severity of the impacts we bake into the system. Our assessment meticulously describes how every fraction of a degree of warming matters—the scale and severity of impacts begin to compound and cascade with higher levels of warming.

I live in an ocean of smell…

The very air they breathed was almost a juice.

sits on the bedspread between her and Necie. I can smell that nail polish in the clean cool air of the woods. The minute Mama opens her mouth I realize she's had at least four drinks. Her voice is loose and deep and content and amused, and she says: Edythe, don't you ever

So I went out alone into a soft day, with the dispelled winter lurking above in high dark clouds under which there ran quick fresh currents of air, and broken shafts of insistent sunshine that spread a grey clarity of light in which every colour showed sharp and strong.:

They were dancing in the social room. A record player shuffled a few simple chords violently together, then dealt them out with heavy emphasis.

A veces me ha pasado que me entusiasmo con lo que leo y siento el deseo de vivirlo inmediatamente. Hace años, por ejemplo, cuando terminé El gran Gatsby, sentí impulsos de ser orgulloso y apasionado y de estar a la altura de mis ilusiones. Me sentía yo también elegante y un poco desesperado pero capaz de todo. Es como un clima, una atmósfera, o mejor un sentimiento, y esa impresión dura lo que duran los ecos de una música, siempre ha sido algo fugaz.