Quotes About Sky

It was dark now, and broodingly sluggish. Like something supine waiting to spring, with just the tip of its tail twitching. Leaves stood still on the trees. An evil green star glinted in the black sky like a hostile eye, like an evil spying eye. ("For The Rest Of Her Life")

New York. The world's most dramatic city. Like a permanent short circuit, sputtering and sparking up into the night sky all night long. No place like it for living. And probably no place like it for dying. ("New York Blues")

Tonight, God was showing off, as pink and blue melded into purple, touched with a warm orange glow and the outline of the clouds, the fields, and the dusty road that seemed to stretch out in front of them forever

All along the crystal cove the woven masks pace and pause from doorstep to doorstep. Shadows dance on the crest of the moon, as clouds, like dark bats, shift through the skies. The children in garments of glib disarray; the parents wear masks that won't fade away. Olive and amber, sea and sky; salt and sand go winding by. One can sense the cries of hovering birds, the laughter of children, and frost-bitten air.

I looked at the sky with its patchwork of sun and storm clouds—the devil must be beating his wife indeed. I bet I was the only one who used that phrase anymore. I

A very great vision is needed, and the man who has it must follow it as the eagle seeks the deepest blue of the sky.

Stars are the daisies that begem The blue fields of the sky.

Don't be lookin up at no sky for help. Look down here, at us twisted dreamers.

We impress Grace with the necessity of taking her umbrella (although the sky is cloudless), and join the throng of fashionably attired churchgoers, all of whom seem to be making their way to the Parish Church. I reflect that neither of my companions is attending church with orthodox motives, but perhaps it is better to attend with unorthodox motives than not at all.

Clear Moon' is more... clear I guess! It's more round-sounding and it's slightly gentler. 'Ocean Roar' is more challenging and weird and darker and heavier - the idea was for it to feel like a thick fog laying on your head, versus a clear sky with the moon in it.

From a very early age, I wanted to fly aeroplanes.

My ideal - and here, the sky is the limit - is to attract foreign investment via concessions.

There is this idea of 'north,' and if you're from Michigan and you wandered the Upper Peninsula, you know what it feels like. The sky has a particular vibe, a coldness, stretching into the upper reaches of Canada.

My grandmother flew only once in her life, and that was the day she and her new husband ascended into the skies of Victorian London in the wicker basket of a hot-air balloon. They were soon to emigrate to Canada, and the aerial ride was meant to be a last view of their beloved England.

How could it be late, when you're the sunrise? There's no morning sky or lark-song before you appear. No butterfly would dare unfold its wings. The day waits on you, my heart, just as the harvest waits the reaper.

Last night was remarkably clear. I looked up at the sky to find the Argo. I'm terrible at constellations. I can never make out any of them except for Orion and his belt. But the longer I stared, the more the sky seemed like an ocean, and then I saw an entire fleet of ships made of stars. A flotilla was anchored at the moon, while others were casting off. I imagined we were on one of those ships, sailing on moonlight.

When they woke on the morning of November 6, the sky was fired a pale blue, the air soft and nearly motionless.

There are Mornings" Even now, when the plot calls for me to turn to stone, the sun intervenes. Some mornings in summer, I step outside and the sky opens and pours itself into me as if I were a saint about to die. But the plot calls for me to live, be ordinary, say nothing to anyone. Inside the house, the mirrors burn when I pass.

One Heart" Look at the birds. Even flying is born out of nothing. The first sky is inside you, Friend, open at either end of day. The work of wings was always freedom, fastening one heart to every falling thing.

The sky sparkled with dancing colors.

In Mary-Lynette's mind he did look like a knight off on a quest for his fair lady – no weapons or armour. But then Ash started walking backwards, waving at the same time and it ruined the effect. "Even when we're apart we'll be looking at the same sky!" he cried. "What a line!" Mary-Lynette yelled back.

No sight is more provocative of awe than is the night sky.

Ellen had said that her mother was afraid of the ocean, that it was too cold and too big. The sky was, too, thought Annemarie. The whole world was: too cold, too big. And too cruel.

i hold um gentle in my hands i no can even see my fingers i see the clouds, the sky moving i see my eyes.