Quotes About Sky

HURRY, Nancy!" Hannah Gruen called anxiously. The Drews' housekeeper held the front door open as jagged lightning cut the sky. Nancy raced madly toward the door, her reddish-blond hair flying in the wind. "Made it!" she gasped, laughing, as great drops of rain pelted the driveway.

When the three girls stepped outside, Nancy took a deep breath of air. She loved the earthy smell of the forests surrounding the lake resort, particularly the scent of the tall pines. "What a day!" she exclaimed. Only a few fleecy white clouds broke the clear blue sky.

You're joking. No, it's true. There are billions of internal surfaces in that piece. It's like a piece of sky. Yes, it is.

Colored lights shone right across the northern sky, leaping and flaring, spreading in rainbow hues from horizon to zenith: blood red to rose pink, saffron yellow to delicate primrose, pale green, aquamarine to darkest indigo. Great veils of color swathed the heavens, rising and falling as light seen through cascading curtains of water. Streamers shot out in great shifting beams as if God had put his thumb across the sun.

The air was cold and wet, and if you stood still for a moment the chilling damp would creep into your bones. I could tell the temperature was taking a deep dive, and the bright sky of the morning was a fond memory. It was an appropriate day to dump a body.

We can't allow ourselves to get lost in the past or the future. We are there for the food and our food is there for us; it is only fair. Eat in mindfulness and you will be worthy of the Earth and the sky.

A white cloud floats in the sky A bouquet of flowers blooms Floating clouds Blooming flowers The clouds are the floating The flowers are the blooming

The home of the deer is the countryside, the home of the birds is the sky, the home of all phenomena is the mind; the mind contains everything that is.

If we stop being joyful and stop singing, we are caught in a kind of prison. The stars in the sky never build prisons.

The sky was clear -- remarkably clear -- and the twinkling of all the stars seemed to be but throbs of one body, timed by a common pulse.

She looked towards the western sky, which was now aglow like some vast foundry wherein new worlds were cast

and to his eyes, casually glancing upward, the silver and black-stemmed birches, with their characteristic tufts, the pale grey boughs of beech, the dark-creviced elm all appeared now as black and flat outlines upon the sky, wherein the white stars twinkled so vehemently that their flickering seemed like the flapping of wings.

Down there they are dubious and askance; there nobody thinks as I, But mind-chains do not clank where one's next neighbour is the sky.

A piece of the sky and a chunk of the earth lie lodged in the heart of every human being.

But it is a curve each of them feels, unmistakably. It is the parabola. They must have guessed, once or twice—guessed and refused to believe—that everything, always, collectively, had been moving toward that purified shape latent in the sky, that shape of no surprise, no second chance, no return. Yet they do move forever under it, reserved for its own black-and-white bad news certainly as if it were the rainbow, and they its children. . . .

A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now.

here in the Rue Rossini, there comes to Slothrop the best feeling dusk in a foreign city can bring: just where the sky's light balances the electric lamplight in the street, just before the first star, some promise of events without cause, surprises, a direction at right angles to every direction his life has been able to find up till now.

And over my head," relates Squire Haligast, "it form'd an E-clipse, an emptiness in the Sky, with a Cloud-shap'd Line drawn all about it, wherein words might appear, and it read,— 'No King . . .

Explanations did not, as far as he could tell, appear to be anything dogs either sought or even were entitled to. Especially dogs who spent as much time as Pugnax did up here, in the sky, far above the inexhaustible complex of odors to be found on the surface of the planet below.

Mark, Reader, my cry! Bend thy thoughts on the Sky, And in the midst of prosperity, know thou may'st die. While the great Loom of God works in darkness above, And our trials here below are but threads of His Love.

Mark, Reader, my cry! Bend thy thoughts on the Sky, And in midst of prosperity, know thou may'st die. While the great Loom of God works in darkness above, And our trials here below are but threads of His Love.

Outside the sky is light with stars

Saw the sun rise. A lovely apricot sky with flames in it and then solemn pink. Heavens, how beautiful...I feel so full of love to-day after having seen the sun rise.

And see the peaceful trees extend their myriad leaves in leisured dance— they bear the weight of sky and cloud upon the fountain of their veins.