Quotes About Wind

Beneath the moon, chilly winds blow through the pines as wisps of clouds arise. So many mountain ridges layer into each other for miles around! The valley stream is quiet and clear -- I'm not done with this boundless joy.

When you feel empty, you have to open up your heart and let the wind sweep through it.

May out of the clouds of chance A calm wind blow, a bird be sighted and steer Straight for your bough, and its pursuing love Break in the air, a scarlet target afloat For the strength of your striking arrow; — Philip Larkin, from section III of "Now," The Complete Poems , ed. Archie Burnett (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2012)

The wind funnelled down the covered platform, jostling the passengers and tearing at their clothes. A woman's scarf whipped by overhead, somersaulting as if intoxicated by the sudden taste of freedom.

Finché il vento dei nostri pensieri, più violento di quello dell'equilibrio, tornerà presto a far volteggiare verso le nubi questa piuma così sensibile.

I love the infantry because they are the underdogs. They are the mud-rain-frost-and-wind boys. They have no comforts, and they even learn to live without the necessities. And in the end they are the guys that wars can't be won without."60

Time is like the wind That comes in the morning With a barely palpable caress of the cheek Rising to a comfortable caress In its measured passage of the day Until it rises a sudden gale Revealing the irrevocability of its power Trembling our browning leaves And blowing them to our finality.

Sopra i tetti delle case si vedevano striscioni di nubi, sfregati e pestati dal vento, che, lassù, doveva soffiare libero come aveva soffiato al principio del mondo.

Da una parte il cielo era tutto schiarito, e vi brillavano certe stellucce umide, sperdute nella sua grandezza, come in una sconfinata parete di metallo, da dove, sulla terra, venisse a cadere qualche misero soffio di vento.

Over the balustrade I could see the dark trees of Webster Groves and the more distant TV-tower lights that marked the boundaries of my childhood. A night wind coming across the football practice field carried the smell of thawed winter earth, the great sorrowful world-smell of being alive beneath a sky.

Finally there came a perfect storm of drafts from uptown and downtown, a big humid uric wind that swept the platform and then reversed itself, and reversed itself again, so that the dollar bills came levitating out of the guitar case and drifted up and down the platform like leaves in autumn, tumbling and skidding, while the band played on. It was perfectly beautiful and perfectly sad, and everybody on the platform knew it, nobody bent down to touch the money.

The wind had teeth today, it bit right through his calfskin jacket. It was a wind unchecked by any serious topography between the Arctic and St. Jude.

she tuned out the tour guide and heeded the October angle of the yellow light, the heart-mangling intensities of the season. In the wind pushing waves across the bay she could smell night's approach. It was coming at her fast: mystery and pain and a strange yearning sense of possibility, as though heartbreak were a thing to be sought and moved toward.

The wind was picking up off the ocean now and the whole coastal scene had a bleak, abandoned look, as though Maine in November really belonged to the ragged gulls who wheeled over the sun-worn pier, and the humans had just gotten the news and taken a powder.

A powerful wind swept through the shtetl, making it whistle. Those studying obscure texts in dimly lit rooms looked up. Lovers making amends and promises, amendments and excuses, fell silent.

Era aproximativ ora patru dupa-amiaza si temperatura incepea sa fie rece. Vantul facea primele zgomote de noapte.

Once dead, there will not lack pious hands to hurl me over the banister; my sepulchre shall be the unfathomable air: my body will sink lengthily and will corrupt and dissolve in the wind engendered by the fall, which is infinite

No one can tell me, Nobody knows, Where the wind comes from, Where the wind goes. It's flying from somewhere As fast as it can, I couldn't keep up with it, Not if I ran. But if I stopped holding The string of my kite, It would blow with the wind For a day and a night. And then when I found it, Wherever it blew, I should know that the wind Had been going there too. So then I could tell them Where the wind goes... But where the wind comes from Nobody knows.

If you were a bird, and lived on high, You'd lean on the wind when the wind came by, You'd say to the wind when it took you away: "That's where I wanted to go today!

No one can tell me, Nobody knows, Where the wind comes from, Where the wind goes.

The half-moon westers low, my love, And the wind brings up the rain; And wide apart lie we, my love, And seas between the twain. I know not if it rains, my love, In the land where you do lie; And oh, so sound you sleep, my love, You know no more than I.

Tis the old wind in the old anger, But then it threshed another wood.

Like a Passover Poet gliding from house to house and from trembling soul to trembling soul the wind scribbled sonnets of first time love and weeping haikus of last hours on earth.

Why a slow death in a strange country if you can die on the threshold of your own house? Refugees don't exist. Only blown away people exist, people blown by the wind all over the world.