Quotes About Wind

We may be touched by the most powerful of suppositions--even to a certainty--as we stand in the rose petals of the sun and hear a murmur from the wind no louder than the sound it makes as it dozes under the bee's wings. This, too, I suggest, is the weather, and worthy of report.

who knows what it dreamed of in the first springs of its life, escaping the cottontail's teeth and everything dangerous else. Who knows when supreme patience took hold, and the wind's wandering among its leaves was enough of motion, of travel.

Through the trees there is the sound of the wind, palavering...

For years and years I struggled just to love my life. And then the butterfly rose, weightless, in the wind. "Don't love your life too much," it said, and vanished into the world.

Si nuestros instintos se limitaran al hambre, la sed y el deseo, seríamos casi libres. Pero nos conmueve cada viento que sopla, cada palabra al azar, cada imagen que esa misma palabra nos evoca

Something was moving; there was a kind of breathing brightness in the air, the wind of God brushing by, invisible in sunlight.

I lay wakeful, watching the empty dark, listening to the little wind which had sprung up throwing handfuls of rain against the walls of the tent

Like the first breath of living wind to the sailor becalmed and starving, I felt hope stir.

Alas! why does man boast of sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only renders them more necessary beings. If out impulses were confined to hunger, thirst, and desire, we might nearly be free; but now we are moved by every wind that blows, and a chance word or scene that that word may convey to us.

I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks, which braces my nerves and fills me with delight. Do you understand this feeling? This breeze, which has traveled from the regions towards which I am advancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy climes. Inspirited by this wind of promise, my daydreams become more fervent and vivid.

why does man boast of sensibilities superior to those apparent in the brute; it only renders them more necessary beings. If our impulses were confined to hunger, thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved by every wind that blows, and a chance word or scene that that word may convey to us.

Endless white ground below, and swirling flakes, and a lonely whistle of wind, and the shadow of houses.

The moon was thin like a hook, and the owls were calling. The smell of fall leaves blew on the wind and Hayes was dead.

That wasn't a moose was it? Janelle said when Stevie was out of earshot. that's a branch, right? it moved in the wind? It's a branch. Nate replied. Like, that's obviously a branch, Vi said. Should we tell her? She seems really invested in this. Definitely not, Nate said as Stevie vanished in the direction of the classroom buildings, earbuds already in her ears. Let her have her moose.

You stood here and watched the storm with the greatest pride one can ever feel—because you are able to have summer flowers and half-naked women in your house on a night like this, in demonstration of your victory over that storm. And if it weren't for you, most of those who are here would be left helpless at the mercy of that wind in the middle of some such plain.

The day was cold, the wind cutting, the sun a dim watermark on the gray sky.

the weather had quickly turned cold and dark, an arctic wind stripping the trees bare of leaves, as if the unusually mild weather we had enjoyed on election night had been merely part of an elaborate set

Winter solitude- in a world of one colour the sound of the wind.

Never whistle for the wind unless you want it to blow,' Ã¢â'¬Â she said.

The wind sighed through the trees, and the fallen leaves rattled up the deserted walks and around the hubcaps of parked cars. It was a faint and sorrowful sound, and the boy thought that he might be the only one in Boulder awake enough to hear it.

The falling of the leaves is the truth. The sweeping is the truth. The wind's blowing them away is the truth. The people's anger also is the truth. If your mind is moving, you can't understand the truth. You must first understand that form is emptiness, emptiness is form. Next, no form, no emptiness. Then you will understand that form is form, emptiness is emptiness. Then all these actions are the truth. And then you will find your true home.

Never throw caution to the wind. It could whip back into your eyes and blind you.

The energy analyst Robert Bryce estimates that simply keeping up with the world's increase in energy use would require turning an area the size of Germany into wind farms every year.

Green how I love you green. Green wind. Green boughs. The ship on the sea And the horse on the mountain.