Quotes About Wind

The wind has shifted to the East. A storm isn't far off. I can smell the moisture in the air, a fetid, living thing. Isolated drops fall, licking at my hands, my face, my dress. The quests squawk in surprise, turn their palms up to the sky as if questioning it, and dash for cover.

Sometimes, when the wind blows through them leaves, it sounds like your name. It's like a sigh, then, she says. 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 bend down and trail delicate fingers across my cold cheeks.

El viento lo observa todo con indiferencia. Al fin y al cabo, no es más que el viento.

Based on the taste of the wind, the target crossed here, thirteen minutes ago, dressed in flannel and eating a Snickers bar.

If you reveal your secrets to the wind, you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees.

On a day when the wind is perfect, the sail just needs to open and the world is full of beauty. Today is such a day.

There is a muscular energy in sunlight corresponding to the spiritual energy of wind.

Sentì le giornate gelide o soffocanti - il sole che ti riscalda troppo, interrotto da un colpo di vento che ti rinfresca troppo. Solo chi ci viene in vacanza può credere che qui il clima sia dolce. Se così fosse, anche la gente lo sarebbe. Invece sono maledettamente lunatici - cambiano d'umore bruscamente, per la nuvola d'una frase o di una diffidenza.

Ogni tanto, nelle giornate di vento, scendeva fino al lago e passava ore a guardarlo, giacché, disegnato sull'acqua, gli pareva di vedere l'inspiegabile spettacolo, lieve, che era stata la sua vita.

The sun went, and it was dark. He sat beside her in the comfortable darkness and they listened, contentedly, to the sounds of Africa settling down for the night. A dog barked somewhere; a car engine raced and then died away; there was a touch of wind, warm dusty wind, redolent of thorn trees.

The winds must come from somewhere when they blow…There must be reasons why the leaves decay. (From Auden's If I Could Tell You

What they would see first would be a darkening of the sky in the east—a change from empty blue to a grey-white that would gradually shade into a heavy, inky purple. And then there would be a wind—the wind that preceded a storm and carried the smell of rain on its breath.

Minty's in a bit of trouble, and he was not surprised. He said something about her sailing too close to the wind.

A book on wind energy, Our Invisible Future, sat on a small pedestal, next to several titles on climate change. This book must be read by all those who use electricity, pronounced a handwritten placard below the book. Ulf raised an eyebrow. He used electricity, and was well disposed towards green energy, but did everyone have to read this?

Grief is an eroding wind. After grief has blown through, there is just the bedrock of a person.

I once listened to an Indian on television say that God was in the wind and the water, and I wondered at how beautiful that was because it meant you could swim in Him or have Him brush your face in a breeze.

The days are cold, the nights are long, The North wind sings a doleful song; Then hush again upon my breast; All merry things are now at rest, Save thee, my pretty love!

I never saw daffodils so beautiful they grew among the mossy stones about & about them, some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness & the rest tossed & reeled & danced & seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the Lake, they looked so gay ever glancing ever changing...

God has made man a cosmopolite. He created seas for ships to glide on, the wind to push them, and the stars to guide them even in darkest night.

There's no chains to hold you now. Break out those sails and watch them fill with the wind that's carrying us all to freedom!

Just as forest fires require a conspiracy of wind, temperature, low humidity, and combustible fuel to rage out of control over large tracts of land, social epidemics require just the right conditions to be satisfied by the network of influence.

Come, for the House of Hope is built on sand: bring wine, for the fabric of life is as weak as the wind.

This is a modern fairytale. No happy endings. No wind in our sails. But I can't imagine a life without. Breathless moments.

I am not from here, my hair smells of the wind and is full of constellations and I move about this world with a healthy disbelief and approach my days and my work with vaporous consequence a touch that is translucent but can violate stone.