Quotes About Wind

Allow his spirit to be peaceful, but allow it to roam free. Let him race up and down the slopes with the wind, let him trickle slowly through the canyons, let him spread completely and gracefully across the land with the setting sun. [He] deserved many things in this life he did not get, but he most assuredly deserves these things.

As I squat to pee I look upward at the billions of stars and planets in the heavens and somehow my own insignificance no longer terrifies me as it once did, but comforts me, makes me feel a part, however tiny, of the whole complete and perfect universe. . . and when I die the wind will still blow and the stars still shine, for the place I occupy on earth is no more permanent than the water I now make, absorbed by the the sandy soil, dried instantly by the constant prairie wind . . .

We began our prerace rituals as the rising wind turned the bay from placid green Jell-O to corrugated iron.

Everything began with a single breath. A light wind that started a sway, and the sway started a turn, and the turn... The turn started everything.

You change society by changing the wind. Change the wind, transform the debate, recast the discussion, alter the context in which political discussions are being made, and you will change the outcomes... You will be surprised at how fast the politicians adjust to the change in the wind.

Spirit is like the wind, in that we can't see it but can see its effects, which are profound.

I wish I could sit here for eons and watch as these sandstone walls crumble, grain by grain and fall to floor this dry wash, become rearranged by water and wind, compressed to other cliffs, excavated into other canyons, and feel the wind all the same. The rock changes, the channel changes, the wind just carries air from one place to another, more constant than the rock. The rock is ephemeral, the wind, eternal.

Without love, I'm more at ease, I'm sure. The sky is high, the mountain wind is sweeping, And all my thoughts are innocent and pure.

Before the spring arrives there are such days: Under the thick snow cover rests the lawn, The dry-and-jolly trees are making noise, Tender and strong, the wind is warm. And body is amazed at its own lightness, And your own home is alien to you, And song that had just previously been tiring With worry you are singing just like new.

Cold clouds of incense Hide the height of the sky, A burst of wind and everything opens. We understand. The drama is over, This is not the third autumn. This is death.

I have ceased and desisted from smiling The frosty wind chills lips - say so long To one hope of which will be lesser, Instead there will be one more song. And this song, without my volition, I will give out for laughter and parable, For this that the silence of love Is to me simply unbearable.

Divine angel, who betrothed us Secretly on winter morn, From our sadness-free existence Does not take his darkened eyes. For this reason we love sky, And fresh wind, and air so thin, And the dark tree branches Behind fence of iron. For this reason we love the strict, Many-watered, and dark city, And we love the parting, And brief meetings' hour.

The slight wind increased, the bellies of the vessels creaked as they rocked on their moorings, and a swarm of rowboats could be seen rushing swiftly to shore, shaving the sides of the ships, the oarsmen competing vigorously and with loud shouts to overtake each other.

From the very moment they first showed Paulette her new house, waiting with a mixture of emotion and anxiety for her every reaction, her every comment (she made none), and for the next trick of destiny, a warm gentle wind would caress their tired faces. A caress, a truce, a balm. Sentimental healing , as someone we know might say.

The men you meet can't do you any harm: ghosts from a life in which wind and sun existed—these good things they no longer remember. They creep or climb or stagger: that is their way of moving. They speak very little; they are no longer Neapolitans, or anything else.

Touching the face of the wind, dark wings flex and ease. They read the wisps of clouds forming above them, the dark heaves of mountains below. Now the sudden bounce of a thermal, now the yank of a downdraft, The birds of my mind tilt and swing as I lie in the blue bus, until finally, their taut wings bank up against the wind and they streak out of my head, peeling off one by one, like canoes that have been pointing upstream, arcing back into the roll of the river.

Fire hath its force abated by water, not by wind; and anger must be allayed by cold words, and not by blustering threats.

A light wind swept over the corn, and all nature laughed in the sunshine.

And then, the unspeakable purity and freshness of the air! There was just enough heat to enhance the value of the breeze, and just enough wind to keep the whole sea in motion, to make the waves come bounding to the shore, foaming and sparkling, as if wild with glee.

he stood against the wind and let it peel him clean

It is very cold walking into the long scraped April wind. At this time of the year there is no sunset just some movements inside the light and then as sinking away.

He mounted the cherubim and flew, he soared on the wings of the wind. PSALM 18:10

voice)...it was honey, smoke, crystal, fire, wind, water, earth.

In the first hour of the new day, in the cold, strong wind that already reaches our native shores, yes, in this one moment of eternally returning regret I realise: what staggers us, over and over again, is the morning splendour of departure!