Quotes About Wind

a corpse was merely an empty vessel for the spirit it had housed. "The soul," he'd said one night by a campfire in the Valley of the Kings, "is like a falcon. Despite its loyalty to the falconer, it longs to fly free. When my time comes, let my soul soar into the wind and the sky. Wherever its natural home is meant to be, that's where it will go.

We return to climatic concerns with the Volturnalia of 27 August. Volturnus was a devastating wind, 'whirling around on the heights' (Lucr., 5, 745)

Seria correcto decir que el viento caminaba? No era una figura ni tenia piernas. Yo no lo veia, sólo lo percibia gracias a la sensación, es decir lo notaba y lo dejaba actuar sobre mi. El se alejaba para soplar de nuevo.

As I sailed into Shadow, a white bird of my desire came and sat upon my right shoulder, and I wrote a note and tied it to its leg and set it on its way. The note said I am coming, and it was signed by me. A black bird of my desire came and sat upon my left shoulder, and I wrote a note and tied it to its leg and sent it off into the west. It said, Eric- I'll be back, and it was signed: Corwin, Lord of Amber. A demon wind propelled me east of the sun.

Angel of the Forsaken Hope Wielder of the Sword of Wind and Obsidian Slice the Algorithms from our Foe. Mermaid Beneath the Seven Dancing Moons, Cantress of the Siren Song, Drown our Enemies in the Data-stream. Nymph of the Logic Tree, Child of the First Word, Give our Antagonist to Grief.

Growing moon. Angry cat. Feather on the wind. Autumn comes. The grass dies.

And then the night wind, cool through arches of the years, came hounding after me.

I? I am nothing, replied the other. A leaf caught in a whirlpool, perhaps. A feather in the wind...

Here and there, on the trees, some leaves remain. And I often stand deep in thought before them. I contemplate a leaf and attach my hope to it. When the wind plays with the leaf, I tremble in every limb. And if it should fall, alas, my hope falls with it. - Schubert

And Melissa would giggle and turn away as we walked to watch the minarets glisten like pearls upon the morning light and the bright children's kites take the harbour wind.

The gunsmoke whipped away in the wind and the sudden noise faded and the jet whine came back, low and steady.

fifty feet above the rocks. The wind

Five minutes to three in the afternoon. Exactly sixty-one hours before it happened. The lawyer drove in and parked in the empty lot. There was an inch of new snow on the ground, so he spent a minute fumbling in the foot well until his overshoes were secure. Then he got out and turned his collar up and walked to the visitors' entrance. There was a bitter wind out of the north. It was thick with fat lazy flakes. There was a storm sixty miles away. The radio had been full of it. The

To an underground room, no doubt. It was closed, but like all storm doors it would open outward. So the wind could never blow it in.

His coat was open wing and wing but he was radiant with talk, and the wind blew over his big besmirched cheeks and exposed earlobes with no effect. He was like a small, hot, talkative planet.

The sky darkened, the liquid singing of the blackbirds diminished and ceased, mud hens swam back to shore, climbed up the banks and huddled in the willows. The lights of a farm came on in the brown distance where patches of tule fog lay on the barren muddy fields. A wind came with the darkness, rattling the license plate, and a low, honking flight of geese passed.

overhead; before her was another long passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind, and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a

overhead; before her was another long passage, and the White Rabbit was still in sight, hurrying down it. There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind, and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, 'Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it's getting!' She was close behind it when she turned the corner, but the Rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found herself in a long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps

HEARING A FLUTE ON A SPRING NIGHT IN LUOYANG From whose home secretly flies the sound of a jade flute? It's lost amid the spring wind which fills Luoyang city. In the middle of this nocturne I remember the snapped willow, What person would not start to think of home!

MIDNIGHT SONG OF WU In Chang'an city is the disk of the moon, The sound of pounding clothes in ten thousand households. The autumn wind is blowing without cease, All the time I think of Yuguan pass. When will we pacify the pillaging Hu, So my husband can end his long journey?

The night's chilly breath tickles up my neck and finds my ear, whispering secrets only the wind knows.

The wind picks up. It sends leaves scurrying for cover until a softer breeze blows through, settling them down again as if to say, Shhh, there, there, it's all right. One leaf still dances in the air. It spins higher and higher, defying gravity and logic, stretching for something just out of reach. It shall have to fall, of course. Eventually. But for now, I hold my breath, willing it to keep going, taking comfort in its struggle.

The beast attempts a beautific look that could be mistaken for a bout of painful wind.

Sometimes when the wind blows through the leaves, it sounds like your name. It's like a sigh then. The most beautiful sound I ever heard. A gentle breeze catches in the branches then and I hear it, soft and low, a murmured prayer – Gem-ma, Gem-ma – and then the leaves trail delicate fingers across my cold cheeks.