Quotes About Clouds

Whoever looks on this, Loses himself in eternity; And entering the sacrid mountains of Sung, He will dream among the resplendent clouds.

Spirits of the pure, ye sacred flock, come forth from the hidden places, come on the surface of the luminous waves! The hour now is; come, assemble! Let us sing at the gates of the Sanctuary; our songs shall drive away the final clouds.

life isn't black or white. There isn't only one picture that's perfect. It's about piecing together shades of gray to make something quite stunning. And the picture shifts. That's another Dad-ism. Remember his sea shadows? Each time the shadow moves, there's a new image. Only sometimes those clouds are stuck up there, so we're the ones who have to move to see it.

And Summer, dear Summer, hath years of June, With large white clouds, and cool showers at noon; And a beauty that grows to a weight like grief, Till a burst of tears is the heart's relief.

The sun was a watery, baleful eye that glared down at the Thames through a bruised eyelid of rain clouds

Sunshine - sunshine! tedious, changeless, monotonous. Not that discreet English Sunshine which varies its charm with clouds, with rainbows, with golden mist... here the sun has ceased trying to please so venerable a world.

I prefer the mystic clouds of nostalgia to the real thing, to be honest.

God is the Sun and when His rays fall upon your heart, not impeded by the clouds of egoism, the lotus blooms and the petals unfold.

Oh. You have a magic boy. Why didn't you say so?" The priest scratched his forehead beneath the white silk blindfold that covered his eyes. " Magnificent . I'll plant him in the fucking ground and grow a vine to an enchanted land beyond the clouds.

THE SKY ABOVE the harbor of Lashain was capped with writhing clouds the color of coal slime, sealing off any speck of light from stars or moons.

hazy October sky. A muted lime-green aurora shimmered behind the clouds as if the black birds were swimming against a frothy tide. The hardwood trees on the surrounding Appalachian slopes were gone to gold and scarlet, and the strange light hinted at the gray winter waiting ahead. One of the crows

Thus we play the fool with the time and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us.

The air up there in the clouds is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious. And why shouldn't it be?--it is the same the angels breathe.

The air up there in the clouds is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious. And why shouldn't it be? — it is the same the angels breathe.

and whirled on the purple glare! There they were, all going at once, red, blue, green, purple! Four furious volcanoes pouring vast clouds of radiant smoke aloft, and spreading a blinding rainbowed noonday to the furthest confines of that valley.

The words were on their way, and when they arrived, she would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like the rain.

Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out, like the rain. (p. 85)

The words were on their way, and when they arrived, she would hold them in her hands like clouds, and she would ring them out like the rain.

Shadows of cloud lurked in the water, like holes the sun forgot about.

She was the book thief without the words. Trust me, though, the words were on their way, and when they arrived, Liesel would hold them in her hands like the clouds, and she would wring them out like the rain.

There were heavy beams - planks of sun - falling randomly, wonderfully, onto the road. Clouds arched their backs to lok behind as they started again to move on. 'It's such a beautiful day,' he said, and his voice was in many pieces. A great day to die. A great day to die, like this.

They were glued down, every last one of them. A packet of souls. Was it fate? Misfortune? Is that what glued them down like that? Of course not. Let's not be stupid. It probably had more to do with the hurled bombs, thrown down by humans hiding in the clouds.

The sky was white but deteriorating fast. As always, it was becoming an enormous drop sheet. Blood was bleeding through, and in patches, the clouds were dirty, like footprints in melting snow. Footprints? you ask. Well, I wonder whose those could be.

Sometimes I imagined how everything looked above those clouds, knowing without question that the sun was blond, and the endless atmosphere was a giant blue eye