Quotes About Atmosphere

There's so much pollution in the air now that if it weren't for our lungs there'd be no place to put it all.

It was like traveling through a stage setting, the air clear and tingling, the moonlight sparkling off bushes laced with frost.

Esta atmósfera de sueño y de inquietud que lo hacía circular a través de los días como un sonámbulo, la denominaba Erdosain, «la zona de la angustia».

en la calle, Erdosain observó que orvallaba,

For a while we talked about things I've forgotten now. Or maybe we were silent for a while, me sitting at the foot of his bed, him stretched out with his book, the two of us sneaking looks at each other, listening to the sound the elevator made, as if we were in a dark room or lost in the country at night, just listening to the sound of horses.

The night was dark as pitch or coal. Stupid expressions, thought Pereda. European nights might be pitch-dark or coal-black, but not American nights, which are dark like a void, where there's nothing to hold on to, no shelter from the elements, just empty, storm-whipped space, above and below.

Pero la poesía (la verdadera poesía) es así: se deja presentir, se anuncia en el aire, como los terremotos que según dicen presienten algunos animales especialmente aptos para tal propósito. (Estos animales son las serpientes, los gusanos, las ratas y algunos pájaros.)

la noche del DF, una noche que a mí siempre me ha parecido preciosa, generalmente las noches aquí son frescas, brillantes, pero no frías, noches hechas para pasear o para coger, noches hechas para platicar sin apuro.

Mrs Dorothea's typewriter was like a heart, a giant heart beating in the middle of the fog and chaos.

Afuera la gente camina a prisa, encogida, no como si aguardaran una tormenta, sino como si la tormenta ya estuviera aquí, sin embargo, nadie parece tener miedo.

The moon is fat and the night air is so pure it seems edible.

Vaudeville audiences… could give the loudest sighs I have ever heard. Prisoners in the Bastille couldn't have touched them.

The atmosphere is possessive of its water. While the clouds are generous with their rain, the sky always calls it back again with the inexorable pull of evaporation.

We would be outraged at the moral trespass. So it should be for the earth. The earth gives away for free the power of wind and sun and water, but instead we break open the earth to take fossil fuels. Had we taken only that which is given to us, had we reciprocated the gift, we would not have to fear our own atmosphere today.

The earth gives away for free the power of wind and sun and water, but instead we break open the earth to take fossil fuels. Had we taken only that which is given to us, had we reciprocated the gift, we would not have to fear our own atmosphere today.

A leaf, bathed in light with stomates wide open to the breath of the air, is not unlike the writer musing in the dark and mind wide open to wisps of thought as amorphous as the atmosphere. We both are sifting and winnowing from the unending flow of materials so ubiquitous as to be invisible, those particular molecules from which life can be built.

hand pump. It emitted a faint grayish smoke

Fog is a cloud on the ground.

Lightning snapped the night sky like a jock's gym towel on a dork's butt.

Mama was crying, and the rain made it seem as if the whole world was crying.

The rain made it seem as if the whole word was crying.

Tej seemed such a sunny personality, much of the time--these flashes of dark were like a crack in the sky, shocking and wrong. Reminding him that the daylight was the illusion, the scattering of light by the atmosphere, and the endless night was the permanent default behind it all.

Reminding him that the daylight was the illusion, the scattering of light by the atmosphere, and the endless night was the permanent default behind it all.

Sergeant Pietro Oliva was a good Catholic. He liked to go into a church and cross himself, genuflect to the alter, and then settle down to a little prayer and contemplation, savouring the coolness, the heavy odours, the darkness, and the sensation of being soaked in the atmosphere of centuries' worth of devotion that hung in the tenebrous and golden air of churches.