Quotes About Wind

Grandfather's skirts would flap in the wind along the churchyard path and I would hang on.

The Olympic Spirit is like the wind. You don't see it coming or going but you hear its voice. You feel the power of its presence. You enjoy the results of its passing. And then it becomes a memory, an echo of days of glory.

And the wind blew the echoes of long-faded voices And they'd sing me a song that the old cowboys sang And I didn't know what the words meant or anything I was just singing because I was supposed to

The pennoned reeds, that, as the west-wind blew, Gleamed and sighed plaintively, as if they knew What music slept enchanted in each stem, Till Pan should choose some happy one of them, And with wise lips enlife it through and through.

le vent soulève le fleuve et le lac, la pluie assombrit le village les montagnes alentour rugissent comme les vagues déferlantes de la mer un feu doux de fagots du torrent, une chaude couverture barbare en laine, le chat et moi ne franchissons pas la porte

may you kiss the wind then turn from it certain that it will love your back

blessing the boats (at saint mary's) may the tide that is entering even now the lip of our understanding carry you out beyond the face of fear may you kiss the wind then turn from it certain that it will love your back may you open your eyes to water water waving forever and may you in your innocence sail through this to that

Air, I should explain, becomes wind when it is agitated.

sobre la que se elevaba la cabaña del Viejo. Expuesta a todos los vientos, pero situada de forma que recibía los rayos de sol de la mañana hasta la noche, la cabaña gozaba de un amplio panorama sobre todo el valle.

Without craftsmanship, inspiration is a mere reed shaken in the wind.

It's like a fidget spinner." Then the offering dropped to the ground, tossed aside. The wind had moved on. "Those get boring fast," said Darnell.

Recordáis cómo era abril cuando éramos jóvenes, esa sensación de líquida impetuosidad y el viento extrayendo cucharadas azules del aire y los pájaros fuera de sí en los árboles que ya habían echado brotes?

The rain had turned sleety, and swarmed and slithered on the windscreen like blown spit. Trees loomed blankly before us, and rents appeared in the clouds, burning white glares within a dull grey surround, though the wind quickly sealed them up again.

We were at Glenaicill—six of us—for the duck-shooting, when Leithen told us this story. Since five in the morning we had been out on the skerries, and had been blown home by a wind which threatened to root the house and its wind-blown woods from their precarious lodgment on the hill. A vast nondescript meal, luncheon and dinner in one, had occupied us till the last daylight departed, and we settled ourselves in the smoking room for a sleepy evening of talk and tobacco.

There was no snow here, but a wind was blowing from the east which searched the marrow.

but yet I was bound in the wings of the temptation, and the wind would carry me away.  I thought also of Saul, and of the evil spirit that did possess him: and did greatly fear that my condition was the same with that of his.  1 Sam. x.

It may well be that what gives to the wind along that Wessex coast its indescribable mixture of vague sorrow and wild obscure joy comes from its passing, on its unpredictable path, the floating hair of so many love-lorn maidens and the wild-tossed beards of so many desolate old men.

Words are easy, like the wind; Faithful friends are hard to find.

You want a story? Read 'Gone With the Wind'. These aren't stories. They're joke books. The whole thing of a beginning, a middle and an end has been done to death.

I am forever walking upon these shores, Betwixt the sand and the foam, The high tide will erase my food prints, And the wind will blow away the foam, But the sea and the shore will remain forever.

My tomb shall be in a spot where the north wind may scatter roses over it.

I am the wind...I am death.

I put my head out of my window and see how much the wind's knife wants to slice it off. On this unseen guillotine, I've placed the eyeless head of all my desires.

But these are flowers that fly and all but sing: And now from having ridden out desire They lie closed over in the wind and cling Where wheels have freshly sliced the April mire.