Quotes About Atmosphere

We stood looking at each other. It was raining. She looked at me with her rain-colored eyes.

overly sensitive to the souls of rooms and objects, the emanations

He had a theory that pupils learned better in a pleasant, non-scholastic atmosphere; and that luxurious hothouse of a room, flowers everywhere in the dead of winter, was some sort of Platonic microcosm of what he thought a schoolroom should be. (Work? he said to me once, astonished, when I referred to our classroom activities as such. Do you really think that what we do is work? What else should I call it?

the atmosphere it breathed was like the light-rinsed airiness of a wall opposite an open window.

Outside, it was cool and still, the sky a hazy shade of white peculiar to autumn mornings...

The smells, the shadows, even the dappled pale trunks of the plane trees lifted my spirits

The light of long ago is different from the light of today and yet here, in this house, I'm reminded of the past at every turn.

Cinnamon-colored walls, rain on the windowpanes, vast quiet and a sense of depth and distance, like the varnish over the background of a nineteenth-century paintings. Rugs worn to threads, painted Japanese fans and antique valentines flickering in candlelight, Pierrots and doves and flowergarlanded hearts.

The light of long ago is different from the light of today, and yet here, in this house, I'm reminded of the past at every turn.

Rain tapped and dripped at the skylight, casting watery shadows that streamed down the wall. Too shy to say anything, I waited for him to pick up the thread again- and when he didn't, we sat there peacefully, while I sipped my cooling tea (Lapsang Souchong, smoky and peculiar) and felt the strangeness of my life, and where I was.

Nobody said anything. Dust motes floated in a sunbeam.

By contrast Hobie lived and wafted like some great sea mammal in his own mild atmosphere, the dark brown of tea stains and tobacco, where every clock in the house said something different and time didn't actually correspond to the standard measure but instead meandered along at its own sedate tick-tock obeying the pace of his antique-crowded backwater, far from the factory-built, epoxy-glued version of the world.

Black birds. Disastrous lead-colored skies out of Egbert van der Poel.

Looks and language of hatred are not very pretty at any time, but in the atmosphere of death they acquire a character of horror.

A noise recalled him to Saint-Sulpice; the choir was leaving; the church was about to close. "I should have tried to pray," he thought. "It would have been better than sitting here in the empty church, dreaming in my chair--but pray? I have no desire to pray. I am haunted by Catholicism, intoxicated by its atmosphere of incense and candle wax. I hover in its outskirts, moved to tears by its prayers, touched to the very marrow by its psalms and chants.

where the humid night-time air enveloped them like a heavy cloud.

When it rains like that, dark in the afternoon, you feel like you've been taken into the past.

a gorgeous end-of-summer-just-starting-to-be-fall day. The trees swayed in the breeze. The sky was the color of cornflowers

Here, in a few words, you've said all you need to say. People stand by each other, but they don't talk. It's remarkable. I've investigated the extraordinary history of these walls. I think I'm the only person who knows that it's the stones, the stones alone that set the tone here.

If you manage a situation, not just things happening there, people should feel elevated just being in that space. Above all, you must feel wonderful being there.

I... wonder what it is in the New York air that enables me to sit up till all hours of the night in an atmosphere which in London would make a horse dizzy, but here merely clears the brain.

The government knew a secret that the American public didn't: the numbers of border crossers were down, across the board. Maybe the fence, maybe the harsh new atmosphere

Architecture is an art when one consciously or unconsciously creates aesthetic emotion in the atmosphere and when this enviroment produces well being.

Architecture is a art when one consciously or unconsciously creates aesthetic emotion in the atmosphere and when this environment produces well being.