Quotes About Wind

I found a sad little fairy Beneath the shade of a paper tree. I know a sad little fairy Who was blown away by the wind one night. He

Révèle ton secret au vent, mais ne lui reproche pas de le répéter aux arbres.

Spune-i secretul t?u vântului, dar nu te-ntoarce împotriva lui fiindc? le-a spus copacilor.

Pode contar seus segredos ao vento, mas, depois, não vá culpá-lo por contar tudo às árvores — disse a menina, batendo com o pé no chão.

Below us, the ocean moved like a giant dish of blue Jell-O under the sweeping winds.

As soon as she opened the door to her office and invited us in, a blast of cold wind from the air conditioner swallowed me in its gentle, westernized embrace. I took in a deep breath, and suddenly, America was inside my lungs. Next to me, my mother began to cry.

Do you hurt uncle Kisten', he asked.(...) but Kisten beat me to it. "Only my heart, Audric," he said. "Ms. Rachel is like the sun. See her sparkling there with the wind in her hair and fire in her eyes? You can't catch the sun. You can only feel its touch on your face. And if you get too much of it, it burns you.

Yeah, the elf looks good in the sun, Jenks smart-mouthed, the pixy currently sitting on the bottom of my hooped earrings and out of the moderate wind. When you going to put us all out of your misery and boink him?

Anne, who was perched on the edge of the veranda, enjoying the charm of a mild west wind blowing across a newly ploughed field on a gray November twilight and piping a quaint little melody among the twisted firs below the garden, turned her dreamy face over her shoulder.

Faeries, come take me out of this dull world, For I would ride with you upon the wind, Run on the top of the disheveled tide, And dance upon the mountains like a flame.

The enormous snow was set down far away. Sometimes I must use my love as the only way to describe it, and must hire the wind to demonstrate the wailing of women. It's hard for stones that roll from season to season to remember the dreamers and the whisperers in the grass, who fell in their love. And like a man who keeps shaking his wrist when his watch stops: Who is shaking us? Who?

The wind howled furiously, and the driving snow beat in their faces; but little cared they for wind or snow as they hurried on their road, eager for revenge.

But you can't plead with autumn. No. The midnight wind stalked through the woods, hooted to frighten you, swept everything away for the approaching winter, whirled the leaves. ("The North")

Rüzgarla yerinden kopan bir yaprak sükunetle aÅŸa?? düÅŸer ama düÅŸerken döner, k?vr?l?r ve tan?d??? her dalla, her filizle, gövdeyle göz göze gelir... Yanlar?ndan geçtiÄŸim her kafaya, duvarlar?n saydam buzuna, bulutlara uzanan Ak?mtoplar Kulesi'yle iÅŸte öyle göz göze geldim.

I walked alone through the twilit street. The wind was whirling, driving, carrying me like a slip of paper. Fragments of cast-iron sky flew and flew-they had another day, two days to hurtle through infinity… The unifs of passersby brushed against me, but I walked alone. I saw it clearly: everyone was saved, but there was no salvation for me. I did not want salvation …"(c)

Blossoms are scattered by the wind and the wind cares nothing, but the blossoms of the heart no wind can touch.

You can't plead with autumn. No. The midnight wind stalked through the woods, hooted to frighten you, swept everything away for the approaching winter, whirled the leaves.

correct reading emerges: When, in the beginning, The Lord created the Heaven and the Earth, The Earth, not yet formed, was in the void, and there was darkness upon Tiamat. Then the Wind of the Lord swept upon its waters and the Lord commanded, "Let there be lightning!" and there was a bright light.

Maan musiikin synnyttävät siis erilaiset onkalot; ihmisten musiikki syntyy bambupillistä, mutta rohkenenko kysyä, mitä on taivaan musiikki? Tuuli puhaltaa kymmenellätuhannella eri tavalla ja jokainen ääni syntyy omalla tavallaan. Tämä tapahtuu luonnostaan, mutta kenen käskystä ne syntyvät?

Let happiness bloom in the freshness of your mind, in the gentle wind of your thoughts, on the ground of kindness and compassion.

J.K. watches a storm rage into the crimson afternoon. The sky is electric. Rain whips her bare arms and legs. Dustbins are hauled into the air, caught on the wind's curve. Bags and pillowcase unpacked for a while, toothbrush, perfume, books, a little pile of yellow feathers, J.K. knows she too is caught in the wind. She is Europe's eerie child, and she is part of the storm." (from "Swallowing Geography" by Deborah Levy)

It was as if you could see into the sky, through it's layers and into it's core. Layers of stars, translucent blanket upon blanket. The beauty was overwhelming. The wind blew her hair, and she willed herself to stop, to breathe, to feel.

Kay got off the bus at the Squinty Bridge and walked across the river to Broomielaw. A brisk wind streamed across the river from the broad plane of Govan, rising up the boom of the flats. Even in the deep doorway, it lifted the tail of her coat and blew her hair up over her ears. Cars passed quickly, anticipating the motorway five hundred yards away. Kay told herself that this was a mistake but she pressed the buzzer anyway.

Words are but wind; and learning is nothing but words; ergo, learning is nothing but wind.