Quotes About Sky

Finch swims toward shore and comes walking toward me. I try not to stare at him, dripping wet and naked, so I watch the crane, the sky, anything but him.

Then you will shine among them like the stars in the sky.

Stars in the sky, stars on the ground. It's hard to tell where the sky ends and the earth begins.

There's a chill in the air that feels like winter, or at least the start of it. This is my least-favorite time of year because everything dies or goes to sleep, and there's too much death and stillness, and the sky turns gray for so long, you think it will never be blue again.

Stars on the sky, stars on the ground. It's hard to tell where the sky ends and the earth begins.

I take her hand under the gray-blue sky and I'm home.

Stars in the sky, stars on the ground. It's hard to tell where the sky ends and the earth begins. I feel the need to say something grand and poetic, but the only thing I come up with is "It's lovely.

Skacz, skacz w górÄ™ i li? niebo! Ja skaczÄ™ z TobÄ… i pÅ'onÄ™ z TobÄ…

He says, "Look." On all sides of us, spread out below, are little white lights and black pockets of trees. Stars in the sky, stars on the ground. It's hard to tell where the sky ends and the earth begins. I hate to admit it, but it's beautiful. I feel the need to say something grand and poetic, but the only thing I come up with is "It's lovely.

I treat water on the surface under the wide, open sky and the sun and all that blue, which reminds me of Theodore Finch, just like everything else reminds me of him, and I think of my own epitath, still to be written, and all the places I'll wander. No longer rooted, but gold, flowing. I feel a thousand capacities spring in me

I walk through the black Indiana night, under a ceiling of stars

Stars in the sky, stars on the ground. It's hard to tell where the sky ends and the earth begins. I feel the need to say something grand and poetic, but the only thing I come up with is "It's lovely.

We were just two teenagers, looking up at the sky on a cold February night. So no, he didn't give me flowers or candy. He gave me the moon and the stars. Infinity.

It snows. So I don't even have to go to the pond for fresh water — just reach out the door for a handful of snow. Melt it, and it's sweet as the sky.

As they traveled the sun and moon dipped in the sky and then rose again, moving around them in a stately dance. In the summer months, at the top of the world, neither sank below the horizon. The sky was both dark and light, the sun a tiny pale ball and the moon a long thin crescent, lying on its back like a bowl. Then, for a time, the sun was directly below the moon, looking insignificant and weak.

So we've pulled the chute, and we're drifting, riding the sky. It's just you and me. You can hear me now that we're falling like this, remember? I tell you that I don't want this to end. I don't want to land and reach the real world, because I like our world up here better.

With blinded eyes I stared at the sky, this grey, endless sky of a crazy god, who had made life and death for his amusement.

There was only the broad square with the scattered dim moons of the street lamps and with the monumental stone arch which receded into the mist as though it would prop up the melancholy sky and protect beneath itself the faint lonely flame on the tomb of the Unknown Soldier, which looked like the last grave of mankind in the midst of night and loneliness.

Love, he thought. That too is love. The old miracle. It not only casts a rainbow of dreams against the gray sky of facts—it also sheds romantic light upon a heap of dung—a miracle and a mad mockery. Suddenly he had the strange feeling of having become, in a remote way, an accomplice.

With blinded eyes I stared at the sky, this grey, endless sky of a crazy god, who had made life and death for his amusement. In

There is the great sky again, and the stars, and the first streak of dawn, and he is walking beneath that sky, a soldier with big boots and a full belly, a little soldier in the early morning.

You knew the fate of civilization was being decided fifteen thousand feet above your head in a world of sun, wind and sky . . . You knew it, but even so it was hard to take it in.

Outside the sky was blank, the light pewter.

Monday was an apple-crisp day with temperatures that never exceeded sixty-two degrees, under vivid cerulean skies.