Quotes About Atmosphere

A girl came in the cafe and sat by herself at a table near the window. She was very pretty with a face fresh as a newly minted coin if they minted coins in smooth flesh with rain-freshened skin, and her hair black as a crow's wing and cut sharply and diagonally across her cheek.

When we came back to Paris it was clear and cold and lovely.

It came very fast and the sun went a dull yellow and then everything was gray and the sky was covered and the cloud came on down the mountain and suddenly we were in it and it was snow.

Here's the beautiful lady with the beer.

A girl came in the cafe and sat by herself at a table near the window. She was very pretty with a face fresh as a newly minted coin if they minted coins in smooth flesh with rain-freshened skin, and her hair was black as a crow's wing and cut sharply and diagonally across her cheek. I

He heard her coming up the stairs and noticed the difference in her tread when she was carrying two glasses and when she had walked down bare-handed. He heard the rain on the windowpane and he smelled the beech logs burning in the fireplace. As she came into the room he put his hand out for the drink and closed his hand on it and felt her touch the glass with her own.

I pointed to the canvas where the rain was making the finest sound that we, who live much outside of houses, ever hear.

It was hot, but the town had a cool, fresh, early-morning smell and it was pleasant sitting in the café.

I went back to Bill. He blew his breath at me to show how cold it was, and went on playing.

Everything looked sharp and clear, and the town smelt of the early morning.

Nicholas Adams drove on through the town along the empty, brick-paved street ... on under the heavy trees of the small town that are a part of your heart if it is your town and you have walked under them, but that are only too heavy, that shut out the sun and that dampen the houses for a stranger.

The first thing we notice about our story is that we can't really see the solid outlines of it--it seems bathed in something of its own. It is wrapped in an atmosphere. This is what makes it shine, perhaps, as well as what initially obscures its plain, real shape.

It makes it so much harder, living in this atmosphere of constant suspicion, knowing everyone is spying on me, and none of you believe in me, or trust me.

Sometimes it was hard to tell whether the fog was rolling in over the city or whether the city was drifting out to meet it.

The night felt forced, off-kilter. We were trying to have fun, fixating on what was available to us, but it was a stretch.

Music, the mosaic of the air

Misha plip-plopping behind him.

He approached and leaned on the railing beside her. He felt the warmth emanating from her, and the faint scent of verbena. He liked the scent of verbena, although the scent of verbena was not the scent of lilac and gooseberry.

The postal station smelled of fried onions and potato soup.

the Dank Wilderness was so dank it would have been difficult to imagine anything danker

The difference between a theatre with and without an audience is enormous. There is a palpable, critical energy created by the presence of the audience.

It was beautiful, and it was terrible, and it was almost indescribably eerie.

October, crisp, misty, golden October, when the light is sweet and heavy.

The air shuddered with the beginning of absence.