Quotes About Atmosphere

My studio is designed for atmosphere. I have a really cozy, comfortable room that has a great, huge glass door that views my backyard.

It's an amazing feeling playing at a packed-out Villa Park.

The 'Love Island' villa smells. That's the one thing the audience at home never see.

When I first showed up at Villa I thought we had a weird old dressing room.

What I particularly like about Broadway is the camaraderie and the friendship of other people in other shows. Everybody knows you're opening and cares about you. There's a real village atmosphere.

I like places where you can dance to crazy music, like Bedlam or Eastern Bloc in the East Village.

To play vinyl onstage is not my thing. For me, vinyl is for home listening.

When people grow up in atmospheres of violence or atmospheres of poverty, they don't normally use hi-falutin' language to describe those things. They would describe some brutal event the same way we would describe getting a taxi or missing the bus.

I planted my self in the middle of a great many Glasses full of Dew, tied fast about me, upon which the Sun so violently darted his Rays, that the Heat, which attracted them, as it does the thickest Clouds, carried me up so high, that at length I found my self above the middle Region of the Air.

Climate change is a consequence of the build up of greenhouse gases over the past 200 years in the atmosphere, and virtually all these emissions came from the rich countries.

If we want to stabilize the carbon dioxide in the atmosphere at some level - it really doesn't matter which level - you end up having to stop emissions virtually completely.

It's a morality film, and it poses the question 'What would you do?' I took it very seriously, just as the director did in terms of atmosphere and lighting, and I was just trying to help that vision along.

There in the middle of the rooftop—in a circle of lighted candles scented with the smell of vanilla—sat a four-poster bed adorned with throw pillows.

It were the sort of mist that soaked into your flesh, into your being, so it were like you were one with it...

This story was a story of our time. And a writer's attempts not to fathom his time amount but to sounding his mind in it.

Children often respond to the mental atmosphere of the adults around them.

Not a spoon clinked against a mug, not a creamer was popped, peeled and opened, not a breath. It was as though something else had joined them then. As though silence had taken a seat.

Pierre sipped, and nodded. It was relaxing being around Chef Véronique, though he knew she scared the crap out of the new employees. She was huge and beefy, her face like a pumpkin and her voice like a root vegetable. And she had knives. Lots of them. And cleavers and cast-iron pans.

But Beauvoir could feel what Ruth was sensing. Something was radiating off Gamache. Was it rage he felt from the chief? Jean-Guy wondered. It certainly wasn't fear. It was actually, Beauvoir realized with some surprise, extreme calm. He was like the center of gravity in the room.

Tea lights were lit and placed on the table and around the garden, so that it looked like large fireflies had settled in for the evening.

the room was warming up and there was nothing quite like the comfort of being cold, then slowly feeling the heat approaching and arriving and spreading.

Outside, clouds had once again rolled in and brought with them snow. Again. Huge soft flakes, as though the clouds themselves were breaking up and drifting down in pieces.

They'd reached St Thomas's and climbed the half-dozen wooden steps to the small veranda. Gamache

The trees grew too thickly, and their trunks were too big for any healthy New England wood. There was too much silence in the dim alleys between them.