Quotes About Sky

I love watching the sunrise and sunset and the sky, the birds.

I loved watching the base of those thunderstorms, the billowing tops of the cumulonimbus, the lightning that effortlessly lit up the lake and the sky. It was gorgeous, so energetic. I was in love.

The sky broke like an egg into full sunset and the water caught fire.

It was a rich and gorgeous sunset - an American sunset; and the ruddy glow of the sky was reflected from some extensive pools of water among the shadowy copses in the meadow below.

This is a beautiful country. Each of us has a favorite river, a mountain, just a patch of sky for some of us. I want to use the law to make sure that the waters, the land, and the skies of this nation are protected.

I have lived in the South of France - think cobalt skies, lapping waves, rocky bays - for almost 35 years.

I spent a long time on a big studio sitcom, 'Baddiel's Syndrome,' for Sky, and got no audience.

There are two ways of looking at the sky;you can wonder why its blue or wonder what you can do with a blue sky!Learn to take the positive approach always.

Quelques corbeaux passèrent au ras du plafond des nuages, se posèrent en grappes noires sur l'orme dressé au milieu de la plaine.

There is only the one like me, the companion man or woman, who can wake me from my torpor, set off the poetry, hurl me against the limits of the old desert for me to triumph over it. No other. Neither sky nor privileged earth, now things which set you to trembling. Torch, I only waltz with that one.

It is curious to note the widest read belief in antiquity that the omphalos had fallen from the sky, and an accurate idea of the sentiment of the Greeks regarding this stone can be had by saying it was somewhat similar to the sentiment Muslims feel with regard to the sacred black stone of the Kaaba.

The moon, B had noticed, awakened the dawn, and so the two – like pale cousins – never saw each other. Even on the most hopeful of days the moon could only peep, from a distant sky, at the sun.

Outside a pale dawn threaded the sky with silver.

Due to the relative positions of the Sun, Venus, and the Earth, we see Venus trace a pentacle, a five-pointed star, in the sky through a series of solar conjunctions.

Well, I wrote that song for the village, but I wrote this one for the sky.

The night sky was clear, but he drew clouds across it, combers that roiled like waves above him.

Human beings say, "It never rains but it pours." This is not very apt, for it frequently does rain without pouring. The rabbits' proverb is better expressed. They say, "One cloud feels lonely": and indeed it is true that the sky will soon be overcast.

The chimneys, rank on rank, cut the clear sky; the moon, with a rag of gauze about her loins, poses among them, an awkward Venus.

I pick the prettiest part of the sky and I melt into the wing and then into the air, till I'm just soul on a sunbeam.

A cloud does not know why it moves in just such a direction and at such a speed, it feels an impulsion... .this is the place to go now. But the sky knows the reason and the patterns behind all clouds, and you will know, too, when you lift yourself high enough to see beyond horizons.

Look at the sky. It's not dark and black and without character. The black is, in fact deep blue. And over there: lighter blue and blowing through the blues and blackness the winds swirling through the air and then shining, burning, bursting through: the stars! And you see how they roar their light. Everywhere we look, the complex magic of nature blazes before our eyes.

figure of the ideal Aryan, with blond hair and blue eyes – hair the colour of the sun, eyes the colour of the sky. The supreme embodiment of Western humanity is Christ, whose whitening in Christian iconography was such that his 'hair and his beard were given the colour of sunshine, the brightness of the light above, while his eyes retained the colour of the sky from which he descended and to which he returned' (Bastide 1967: 315).

Fresh air, quiet, and the calming stimulus of the movement on the earth beneath the sky; that's why she loves to walk so much.

The man rolls over onto his back, face-to-face with the morning sky. The messages swarm him. Even here, homeless, he thinks: Nothing will be the same. The spruces answer: Nothing has ever been the same. We're all doomed, the man thinks. We have always all been doomed. But things are different this time. Yes. You're here.