Quotes About Wind

She climbed, and climbed. The tower vibrated slightly, perhaps because its height made the wind a stroking hand upon its string. Half-heard cries, ragged whispers, soft slithering sounds echoed from the stone walls. The Speaking Tower, it was called, for here Summer could listen to the voices of her subjects, their wishes and fears seeping from rough mauve rock. The outside was white-and-greenstone, but the inside of the Speaking was a pink throat.

Je ramène les pans de mon manteau. Je m'allonge dans la neige. J'écoute siffler le vent. Je regarde le ciel bas. Une profonde paix descend en moi.

One day the wind blew through the town, and oh, how merry it was! It whistled down the chimneys, and scampered round the corners, and sang in the tree tops. "Come and dance, come and dance, come and dance with me," that is what it seemed to say.

You just have to pay attention. If you don't, you'll miss them, or see something else--something you expected to see rather than what was really there. Faerie voices become just the wind, a bodach ... scurrying across the street becomes just a piece of litter caught in the backwash of a bus.

St. Brigid's Island perched like a jagged accident above the water, all grass and rock, no beach to ease the passage of a boat, no harbor to shelter it once there. Twelve miles west of Ireland, at times nearly impossible to get to and just as deadly to try to leave. It was the whim of the wind and the swelling sea that determined who landed there and who was let go.

The beauty of God is in the wind, in the movement of the ocean, it is in the eyes of a woman gazing at her lover, pouring the deep red wine of love from her eyes like two crystal cups. There is a God who dances and who loves and who longs to sing of love...And I mean that God is music; all inclusive, benevolent and life-affirming, unashamed human emotion.

Blow, wind, crack your cheeks, I thought. Brian wasn't the only one who could quote Shakespeare. I made it to my room without thinking of any other suitably apocalyptic line from Lear, and I was too tired to start in on Othello. I flopped onto the bed facedown—and immediately I was bent into a bow shape, with the soles of my feet facing the back of my head.

Ah, Young One," he said, holding up the box. "I have brought you a riddle: What is the essence of the moment but as fleeting as the wind?" "All that lives, Master," I said. "Plus, whatever is in the box." He beamed at me and opened the lid. "Snatch the cannoli, Grasshopper," he said, and I did. Over

La Rochefoucauld: Absence diminishes mediocre passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans fire.

I have such an anger and an urge to charge at the sky, to call the wind a liar for never showing itself. An urge to scream at the two who allowed my birth. Cries for help to anyone who will hear them. To scream into the street that there is a lack of miracles in Mother Nature herself. Her divinity is a lie. In

Africa, in particular, has barely begun to exploit its renewable energy potential. Energy analysts say that solar, wind, hydro, geothermal, and biomass sources could more than supply the energy needs of every continent. The key is providing a favorable playing field, and that means financial aid, technology transfer, and training programs to assist developing nations, like the ones being advanced by the EU/AU partnership.

In Germany, a gas- or coal-fired power plant that might cost $1 billion to build, but that will no longer run at full capacity because of the onslaught of renewable energies into the grid, can only pay for itself on days when there is no wind or heavy cloud cover.

Strange that Nature's voices all around them — the soft singing of the waters, the whisperings of the river grass, the music of the rushing wind — should not have taught them a truer meaning of life than this. They listened there, through the long days, in silence, waiting for a voice from heaven; and all day long and through the solemn night it spoke to them in myriad tones, and they heard it not.

When the sun is a bike ride away, I will hear it. It will sound like wind in treetops. I will awaken.

She laughed again. It sounded like a string of empty metal cans clattering in the wind.

soft, moist air and bouts of low pressure blamed for headaches and illnesses and despair. A brisk autumn wind blew off the Alps

He stops to wait for her, but she has a sudden burst of energy, passing him. On and on she sprints, unobstructed, kicking up her heels at the water's edge. Dark hair to her chin, rearranged by the wind, obscuring her face. Just when he thinks she will have the energy to run forever, to escape his sight, she pauses. Turning back, breathing hard, her hand on her hip, making sure he is there.

Absence is to love as wind is to fire: it extinguishes the little flame, it fans the big.

It is a very beautiful day. The woman looks around and thinks: 'there cannot ever have been a spring more beautiful than this. I did not know until now that clouds could be like this. I did not know that the sky is the sea and that clouds are the souls of happy ships, sunk long ago. I did not know that the wind could be tender, like hands as they caress - what did I know - until now?

The sky and the strong wind have moved the spirit inside me till I am carried away trembling with joy.

Sonetul c?tre vânt Curgi, vântule: nebun nisip C?ci lumea e o lumânare Cel care vine f?r? chip Ucide umbrele-n suflare. Acesta este trupul meu Osp?? bolnav de alterare Hr?ne?te-te ?i bea mereu C?ci sângele-i cu minutare O, schimb?-m? în ce nu sunt În alt? na?tere mai mare Din pântece eram p?mânt ?i mama m? crezuse soare. Curgi, vântule: trezit mormânt, Pe flac?ra întâmpl?toare.

I know of no place where the wind can be as icy and the damp so penetrating as in Oxford round about Easter time.

Het gedreun van de kanonnen in de verte was eerder te voelen dan te horen; nu en dan trok er een rilling door de aarde, was er een vibratie die werd meegevoerd door de wind, terwijl ik op dat moment niets hoorde.

Close your eyes and turn your face into the wind. Feel it sweep along your skin in an invisible ocean of exultation. Suddenly, you know you are alive .