Quotes About Wind

Separately there was only wind, water, sail, and hull, but at my hand the four had been given purpose and direction.

Winter reaches its peaknot when a great wind screamsfrom the top of its lungs, but when a lazy breeze whispers from the bottom of its heart

Aww, the sound of waves crashing along the ocean side and spraying back up to touch the wind only for a moment, then to fall back down becoming the ocean once more...

He had followed the calendar, the years, time- Bird farted. And it came to me, as though it were riding one moment of the gusting wind, as though bird had had it in him all the time and had passed it to me in that one moment of instant corruption.

Autumn" Again the wind flakes gold-leaf from the trees and the painting darkens— as if a thousand penitents kissed an icon till it thinned back to bare wood, without diminishment. The Paris Review Issue 109, Winter 1988

All day the blanket snapped and swelled on the line, roused by a hot spring wind.... From there it witnessed the first sparrow, early flies lifting their sticky feet, and a green haze on the south-sloping hills. Clouds rose over the mountain....At dusk I took the blanket in, and we slept, restless, under its fragrant weight.

Your other mother, Sarah, she tells me to send heavy thoughts to the wind, to make room for lighter ones

Happiness, they say, is a decision, not just a feeling. And I have decided to get rip-roaringly drink and throw caution to the wind.

The wind blew my words away from you. So while I told you I love you, the phrase was carried in the opposite direction and landed 333 miles away in the ears of a confused farmer. He was nice, though. He sent me a kind letter saying that while he was flattered, I wasn't really his type.

a wind has blown the rain away & the sky away & all the leaves away, & the trees stand. i think i, too, have known autumn too long.

pulled my jacket tighter

She often climbed up the hill and lay there alone for the mere pleasure of feeling the wind and of rubbing her cheeks in the grass. Generally at such times she did not think of anything, but lay immersed in an in an inarticulate well-being.

Ah for pittie, wil ranke Winters rage, These bitter blasts neuer ginne tasswage? The keene cold blowes throug my beaten hyde, All as I were through the body gryde. My ragged rontes all shiver and shake, As doen high Towers in an earthquake: They wont in the wind wagge their wrigle tailes, Perke as Peacock: but nowe it auales.

The flutter of the leaves brought on your trance. Hundreds of thousands of sycamore leaves all obeying the same wind, their wide green palms opening then tightening, letting in and keeping out the light, changing the prospect from outdoor to indoor, forever altering. It was the most lonesome hour just before dusk with all the colors going, all the streamers , the pinks and reds, and violets and indigos and blues, the lovely laneways of vanquishing light.

Other times when I hear the wind blow I feel that just hearing the wind blow makes it worth being born.

Pensar incomoda como andar à chuva Quando o vento cresce e parece que chove mais.

There are no roses in my yard: what wind brought you? But I suddenly come from far away. I was sick for a moment. No wind whatsoever brought you now. Now you're here. What you were isn't you, or else the whole rose would be here.

Olá, guardador de rebanhos, Aí à beira da estrada, Que te diz o vento que passa?' 'Que é vento, e que passa, E que já passou antes, E que passará depois. E a ti o que te diz?' 'Muita coisa mais do que isso, Fala-me de muitas outras coisas. De memórias e de saudades E de coisas que nunca foram.' 'Nunca ouviste passar o vento. O vento só fala do vento. O que lhe ouviste foi mentira, E a mentira está em ti.

Lightly, lightly, very lightly, A wind passes very lightly And goes away, always very lightly. And I don't know what I think And I don't want to know.

Como quien no quiere la cosa. Ninguna cosa. Boca cosida. Párpados cosidos. Me olvidé. Adentro el viento. Todo cerrado y el viento adentro.

you've built your home you've fledged your birds you've beaten the wind with your bones you've finished alone what no one began

Dusk" The shadow covers the outer petals The wind makes off with the final gestures of leaves The foreign, now twice-silenced sea inside a summer pitied for its lights A longing from here A memory from there

Return, while night clatters and mirrors open and everything tears inside because of your absence. Everything wants to get on with the wind, the sky. To register a terrible gesture, some way of being without you, an impossible.

Cansada de aquel amor que no sucedió Cansada de mis pies que sólo saben caminar Cansada de la insidiosa fuga de preguntas Cansada de dormir y no poder mirarme Cansada de abrir la boca y beber el viento