Quotes About Wind

We had so many happy days in the country that fall that from this vantage they merge into a sweet and indistinct blur. Around Halloween the last, stubborn wildflowers died away and the wind became sharp and gusty, blowing sbowers of yellow leaves on the gray, wrinkled surface of the lake. On those chill afternoons when the sky was like lead and the clouds were racing, we stayed in the library, banking huge fires to keep warm. Bare willows clicked on the windowpanes like skeleton fingers.

E le notti, più grandi di quanto sia immaginabile: nere, immense, spazzate dal vento; caotiche e pazze di stelle.

sky darkened rapidly, darker every second; the wind rustled the trees in the park and the new leaves on the trees stood out tender and yellow against black clouds.

After class, I wandered downstairs in a dream, my head spinning, but acutely, achingly conscious that I was alive and young on a beautiful day; the sky a deep deep painful blue, wind scattering the red and yellow leaves in a whirlwind of confetti.

As I lay on my side, staring at a pool of white moonlight on the wooden floor, a gust of wind blew the curtains out, long and pale as ghosts. As though an invisible hand were leafing through them, the

I sense myself, I think of myself; and as I do this I dissolve, go away, am left with nothing, nothing, nothing - unless I am the wind that blows through the immense spaces that lie between electron and electron, proton and its attendants, spaces that cannot be filled with 'nothing', since nothing is 'nothing'... (84)

If you're the first of November, you're Scorpio. A large reporter of his owne Acts. Prudent of behaviour in owne affairs. A lover of Quarrels and theevery, a promoter of frayes and commotions. As wavery as the wind; neither fearing God or caring for Man.' 'Better,' said Lymond coldly, 'to be stung by a nettle than pricked by a rose.

Bruges was the multiple voice of working water; and the quality of brick-thrown echoes, and the hiss of trees and the flap of drying cloths in the flat-country wind, and the grunting, like frogs in a marsh, of quires of crucified clothes, left to vibrate in the fields of the tenters.

Words is but wind but dunts is the devil

As he spoke, the sound of a church clock, muffled by the snow, came borne upon the wind; it chimed the first quarter. 'Thank God!' said Wimsey. 'Where there is a church, there is civilisation.

But by an extraordinarily lucky chance they had not yet fully corrected their flight paths to that of the erratically weaving ship, and they passed right under it. "And the sweet silver song of the lark.'… Revised impact time fifteen seconds, fellas…. 'Walk on through the wind …

She waited, motionless in the dim light. There was no sound but the faint susurrus of wind.

For in the voyage of the heart, there is a freight of hatred, and the wind of wrath blows shrill.

The rain was pouring down again. The wind came in fitful gusts. The depressing sound of the pattering rain nearly drove them mad. By

It has been a wet day. The wind blew, the rain came down, and the mist was everywhere so that one could not see through it. Eh bien, what is it like now? The mists have rolled away, the sky is clear and up above the stars shine. That is like life, Madame.

Sopló el viento, llovió a cántaros y la niebla lo envolvió todo. Y bien, ¿qué pasa ahora? La niebla se ha dispersado, el cielo esta claro y allá arriba brillan las estrellas. Es como la vida misma, madame.

The wind through the trees made a mournful noise, like some great giant sighing.

Under a brilliant moon, and unbeknownst to us, the darkened world silvers and shimmers from pink and ebony wings, a small thunder. We can't possibly hear such an astonishing wind while we try to keep in step with our small dances on this earth. But we should try. We should try.

ORDINARILY, children are supposed to spend their childhood like saplings sheltered in a greenhouse. Even if on occasion some wind or rain of the real world slips in through the cracks, a child is not supposed to be weatherbeaten in earnest by the sleet and snow.

Another kind of wind, raging out of the Old Sun all the while, but it slips through the hull and the photon sails like they aren't there at all. Dark-wind, some call it. Or ghost-wind or shadow-wind.

Wind snapped at me, warm and fragrant. The atmosphere was thick with pollen and micro-organisms, goading my body's ancient defences.

With the wind blowing through the windows, we all had to remove our caps. My hair was whipping around my face. I heard a screech from the front of the bus. Tiffany, learning to deal with flying hair.

I'd forgotten how cold it was. Especially when we turned the corner and the wind from off the lake hit us. I was thinking that buying fur-lined boots wasn't enough. Finding some fur-lined underwear might not be a bad idea.

The sycamore trees that surround our house sway as the wind pushes in an oncoming storm now gathering off the coast.