Quotes About Wind

The world's decay where the wind's hands have passed, And my head, worn out with love, at rest In my hands, and my hands full of dust.

In Paradise Now we looked for illogical catalysts with which to precipitate the age of freedom. We consulted the oracles, we used the arcs of our bodies, our lurching minds, incantation, raising and lowering body heat, breath, wind, human contact, patterns of light, spells, rituals, visions, dreams.

Evelyn continued to hold the wheel, recognizing the sensation of being in control of the rudder, while Martin explained how the direction of the wind was key, and how all the elements worked together to affect speed. "It's physics," she said, becoming fascinated by the complexity of the air and water flow working together, and comprehending how the shape of the hull and sails and the size of the keel all played an important part in the boat's movement.

rose from bed and stood at the paned window of my Boston flat, watching violent gusts of wind sweep raindrops

Decir de alguien que es un veleta prueba poca imaginación: se ven las vueltas pero no la intención, la punta de la flecha que busca hincarse y permanecer en el río del viento.

Oh, life, life!" Bastidas complained, sipping his drink. "What is life? A little flame at the tip of a candle, exposed to a strong wind.

There is a time for deeper things to open your mind and inspire, with the promise of new life. A bricolage of of seasons and reasons when the sun is warm and the wind is chill. Before the reckless bloom of pure spring,

History isn't what you had for breakfast. That's meaningless data, gone with the wind. History is that scar on your hand. It's the stories that leave a mark, the past that refuses to stay past.

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

Everything was chocolate ice cream and kisses and wind.

Giornata splendida, sole, un refolo di vento che addolcisce il mondo...insomma, tempo da elfi.

sombra que sucesivo anhela el viento...

A gust of wind snatched at her hat. She jumped from the wall and her skirts blew everywhere. I couldn't avoid glimpsing more than she intended, and I feared that she might have been embarrassed. Instead she laughed and said, "You're seeing my true colors," and I was the one who blushed.

The winds will wash you out your hair, my dears. Passions will become turrets, to you.

The hawk turned slowly and flexed his great wings to maintain his height. In this cold wind, he flew merely to see and to travel. Gone was the exhilaration of fast-rising summer air carrying him so high into the sky's blue vacuum that the pond became a silver speck and the great southern lake dazzled him with a glaring slash of reflected sun.

Above his monotonous voice one could hear, now and again, a little wind stray through the drying leaves of the trees. A leaf or two might flutter down, and scratch against the bark of trunk or boughs with a crackling papery rustle.

It is like leaning over the edge of a canyon and feeling the wind whip by. Any illusions about your significance are wiped away; you realize how puny and inconsequential you are. And yet the beauty is so intoxicating that you only crave more. You long to have a bigger heart that could take it all in. That's a taste of what "the fear of the Lord" means.

In golden April weather, In sun and wind and rain, Let us fare forth and follow Beneath the spring's first swallow By budding break and heather To the good brown soil again!

Anyone could see that the wind was a special wind this night, and the darkness took on a special feel because it was All Hallows' Eve. Everything seemed cut from soft black velvet or gold or orange velvet. Smoke panted up out of a thousand chimneys like the plumes of funeral parades.

Passionate, with an intense, smoldering resolve. A leashed anger that he used, because he had dominated it. And a certain tempting arrogance. Not the haughty pride of a highlord. Instead, the secure, stable sense of determination that whispered that no matter who you were—or what you did—you could not hurt him. Could not change him. He was. Like the wind and rocks were.

For a moment, it was just him. Him and the wind. He fought with her, and she laughed.

You could not kill the wind. You could not stop it. It was beyond the touch of men. It was infinite...

But still, my 'freedom' is that of a leaf. Dropped from the tree, I just blow on the wind and pretend I'm in charge of my destiny.

I will not stop vibrating. The wind will not stop blowing. You will not stop drawing.