Quotes About Sky

Then that night there was an early frost, and by Sunday morning, autumn had truly arrived. The sky was a rich cloudless blue, the air still and dry, the maple trees glowing with glorious reds and oranges and yellows, and everywhere on Gardam Street squirrels bustled about with self-importance, burying their nuts in the most unlikely places.

Wouldn't it be strange, she thought, to have a blue sky? But she liked the way it looked. It would be beautiful - a blue sky.

Piedodiet man, bet es neturu god? neko smag?ku par gaisu.

The sky, a perfect empty canvas, offers clouds nonetheless. They shift and drift and beg interpretation... such is the nature of art.

You were right about the stars, each one is a setting sun.

Whitby's often silent, and when he speaks his questions and concerns do nothing to alleviate the pressure of that gloom, the sense of intent eternal and everlasting that occupies this stretch of land, that predates Area X. The still, standing water, the oppressive blackness of a sky in which the blue peers down through the trees at startling intervals, only to be taken away again, and only ever seeming to come to you from a thousand miles off anyway.

How can you tell if a streak of light across the sky is sincere?

This willingness continually to revise one's own location in order to place oneself in the path of beauty is the basic impulse underlying education. One submits oneself to other minds (teachers) in order to increase the chance that one will be looking in the right direction when a comet makes its sweep through a certain patch of sky.

Y el «Jarabe» llenó las copas de los arboles, avanzó alegre por el corredor y subió por los aires hasta el cielo.

The stars were only sparks of the fire which devoured us. Should that fire die out one day, there would be nothing left in the sky but dead stars, dead eyes.

All this under a magnificent blue sky.

If we look at the path, we do not see the sky. We are earth people on a spiritual journey to the stars. Our quest, our earth walk, is to look within, to know who we are, to see that we are connected to all things, that there is no separation, only in the mind. —Native American

If there's one thing Lucille hates, it's how science has to rain on whimsy's parade: Rainbows not a gift from leprechauns offering pots of gold, but only a trick of refraction. A blue sky not a miles-wide painting done by a heavenly hand, but molecules scattering light. Still, when Lucille sees the stars strewn across the sky on a night like tonight, they're diamonds, and she thinks they might end up under her bed yet. Maybe

YOU'RE HAVING A DELIGHTFUL PICNIC, THEN SUDDENLY THERE'S A TORNADO. THE BAROMETRIC PRESSURE DROPS. THE SKY GOES BLACK. THE BIRDS GO SILENT. THIS THING IS COMING STRAIGHT FOR YOU

The room was so neat and tidy it made me feel quite depressed...I do not allow myself to repine about what cannot be helped; but I remembered earlier Decembers, under the cloudless blue skies and brilliant sun of Egypt. As I stood morosely contemplating the destruction of our cheerful domestic clutter, and recalling better days, I heard the sound of wheels on the gravel of the drive. The first guest had arrived. Gathering the robes of my martyrdom about me, I made ready to receive her.

moon dipped low over the dark outlines of the mountains, and the sable sky blazed with stars. There

The mountains were rough amethysts, against a sky like a giant stage backdrop—layers of gauzy scarlet and gold and amber, lit from behind by mammoth spotlights.

The sky is that beautiful old parchment in which the sun and the moon keep their diary.

The overcast sky seemed almost alive with birds—Cape pigeons, terns, fulmars

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky!

[N]ow and then an ominous black cloud had blotted-out the sun from our sight, and poured down a deluge till it had spent itself, and then had left the sky glaringly bright and blue...

No doubt the phenomena of cloud-formation are designed primarily to water the earth; to gather together the moisture from the salt sea, and form dark, unwholesome fens; to purify them by the mysterious alchemy of the sky; to carry them onward by sweeping storm or by gentle zephyr, and let them descend gently in the mist, or steadily in the rain, which will waken sleeping seeds, and revive drooping vegetation.

I had not known, before us, that every vein in my body was capable of carrying light, like a river seen from a train makes a channel of sky etch itself deep into a landscape. I had not really known I could be so much more than myself. I had not known another body could do this to mine.

The white sky was becoming pearly, and the street lamps suddenly punctured the gloaming.