Quotes About Wind

I walked far down the beach, soothed by the rhythm of the waves, the sun on my bare back and legs, the wind and mist from the spray on my hair.

I heard the first raindrops strike the porch roof beneath her. I felt them on my face: I saw the trees begin to move in their fury. And I heard the wind, wailing as if he were wailing, lashing the trees and crying in his grief as he had on the death of my mother, and on the death of her mother. Yes, it was a storm for the death of the witch, and I was the witch. And it was my death and my storm.

Spiderwebs broken and torn in a wind that is indifferent to their beauty.

Lasher,' she said, 'for the wind which you send that lashes the grasslands, for the wind that lashes the leaves from the trees.

It wasn't so like the dream, but then again it was, because these things were above and full of the verdant smell of the wild, and the sylvan woods were gently heaving their limbs on the scented wind.

It was the first time I'd heard her voice, and I saw the deliberate brave calm of her blanched face, the wind making her eyes tear, though she herself remained staunch.

She remembered the feel of wind on summer nights - how it billows through the house and wafts the curtains and smells of tar and roses

She remembered the feel of wind on summer nights - how it billows through the house and wafts the curtains and smells of tar and roses. How a sleeping baby weighs so heavily on your shoulder, like ripe fruit. What privacy it is to walk in the rain beneath the drip and crackle of your own umbrella.

I cannot cause light; the most I can do is try to put myself in the path of its beam. It is possible, in deep space, to sail on solar wind. Light, be it particle or wave, has force: you can rig a giant sail and go. The secret of seeing is to sail on solar wind. Hone and spread your spirit till you yourself are a sail, whetted, translucent, broadside to the merest puff

I cannot cause light; the most I can do is try to put myself in the path of its beam. It is possible, in deep space, to sail on solar wind. Hone and spread your spirit till you yourself are a sail, whetted, translucent, broadside to the merest puff.

Flung is too harsh a word for the rush of the world. Blown is more like it, but blown by a generous, unending breath.

Yes, it's tough, it's tough, that goes without saying. But isn't waiting itself and longing a wonder, being played on by wind, sun, and shade?

There is a muscular energy in sunlight corresponding to the spiritual energy of wind. On a sunny day, the sun's energy on a square acre of land or pond can equal 4500 horsepower. These horses heave in every direction, like slaves building pyramids, and fashion, from the bottom up, a new and sturdy world.

It seemed to me that the two remaining masts almost leaned forward, out of the vertical, so great was the pressure of wind in sails. Nothing broke, nothing tore—so beautiful was our position and so constant the current of air. It made the blood sing in my veins, and I knew I could be a sailor for life, if I chose. Yes, I could gladly wait a lifetime, a full sixteen years more, for such a sensation again. Without our effort, grace moved us forward.

For raging wind blows up incessant showers

Look at that amazing display of sparkle! And feel that wind? It's trying to tickle your toes

The Atharva Veda points out that the quest for awareness, the search for answers, the journey towards self-realization, never ceases: How does the wind not cease to blow? How does the mind take no repose? Why do the waters, seeking to reach the truth, Never at any time cease to flow? —Atharva Veda, X.7.3731

How does the wind not cease to blow? How does the mind take no repose? Why do the waters, seeking to reach the truth, Never at any time cease to flow? —Atharva Veda, X.7.37

Late at night I go out and listen to the wind. That's all the wisdom I need. I mean, I love books, but shoot, most of the world's wisdom is not contained in books.

What's the difference between Darling Cruel, the wind, and a vacuum? A vacuum only sucks. The wind only blows. But Darling sucks, blows, and swallows.

Loud wind, strong wind, sweeping o'er the mountains, Fresh wind, free wind, blowing from the sea, Pour forth thy vials like streams from airy mountains, Draughts of life to me.

Vain the ambition of kings Who seek by trophies and dead things To leave a living name behind, And weave but nets to catch the wind.

As you see in a pair of bellows, there is a forced breath without life, so in those that are puffed up with the wind of ostentation, there may be charitable words without works.

Molto ho scordato, Camilla, sulle ali del vento, E ho gettato rose, rose in tumulto tra la folla Danzando per scacciare dalla mente i tuoi pallidi gigli perduti, Ma ero svuotato e triste per l'antica passione, Sì, di continuo, perché la danza era lunga; Ti sono stato fedele, Camilla, a modo mio Arturo Bandini