Quotes About Sky

but to the north there was a bank of cirro-cumulus, a mackerel sky, or Schaefchenwolken—"sheep cloud"—as she remembered her father calling it. For some reason he had used German when talking about clouds and sea conditions; an odd habit that she had accepted as just being one of the things he did. "The weather," he had once said to her, smiling, "is German. I don't know why; it just is. Sorry.

Our heads may be small, but they are as full of memories as the sky may sometimes be full of swarming bees, thousands and thousands of memories, of smells, of places, of little things that happened to us and which come back, unexpectedly, to remind us who we are.

What they would see first would be a darkening of the sky in the east—a change from empty blue to a grey-white that would gradually shade into a heavy, inky purple. And then there would be a wind—the wind that preceded a storm and carried the smell of rain on its breath.

modern people always appeared to be rushing about doing things, having no time, it seemed, for looking at the sky

Perhaps the cloud had blown over and covered his sky.

Mma Ramotswe would often stop and look at the sky; and this just went to show how wise she was, because looking at the sky was something that we all should do more often.

And they both had the land about them; the sky that went on forever, it seemed, and was filled with sun and with the air that they all needed, that the cattle needed, that the animals in the Kalahari needed--there was plenty of that; they had Botswana. So everybody had the things that mattered, when you came to think of it...

It was an innocent enough activity, after all; like looking at the sky, perhaps, when the sun was going down and had made the clouds copper-red, or looking at a herd of fine cattle moving slowly over the land when rains had brought on the sweet green grass. These were pleasures which the soul needed from time to time, and she would wait for Mma Makutsi until she had examined the shoes from all angles.

The moon, which would be full within the week, pulsed huge and silver in a deep black sky. The lake, black and secret and long, stretched out as far as I could see, joining with the sky in a seamless circle of darkness.

He pointed out to him the bearings of the coast, explained to him the variations of the compass, and taught him to read in that vast book opened over our heads which they call heaven, and where God writes in azure with letters of diamonds.

I never saw a sky so blue. Rhett, it's worth living a man's whole life, if, just once, just one time, he gets to see a sky that blue.

Bob Brennan went on to become a fair dog handler, and he and Shep won several open trials, but he never forgot the slight woman working his dog, better than he could, out in the middle of nowhere; woman, dog, sheep moving with great precision, and she never repeated a request (Bob Brennan couldn't call them commands), and she spoke so soft - just Penny and Shep and the sky, stretching from Canada to Mexico, lighter blue at the rim than in the bowl overhead. Shep never forgot it either.

Some motionless conflict in the sky

Joan breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the sweet smells of early spring. Her spirit soared like a falcon loosed from its fetters, delivered suddenly to the miraculous freedom of wind in sky.

with the colors of the dawn still in the sky, when right smack-dab in the center of my field of vision I noticed this cloud in the perfect shape of an angel with her wings arched across the sky.

See them stars starting to twinkle? They's Gawd's diamonds. You 'eah me? And the night sky turning so blue? That's He sapphires for us.

In the classical liberal order, there was an arbitrary desire to hang the rights of man on a great big invisible sky hook. But whenever you bolt this sky hook into the azure blue, it does not much matter how many extra Kantian bolts you use-the thing simply will not stay up there.

It's as if, from the vantage point of a verandah bed, that great expanse of sky rolls in over us from the very edge of existence.

Drifting, drifting,/ what am I more than/ a single gull/ between sky and earth?

Nothing Here is Enough" I need a parrot, identical days, a quantity of needles, and artificial ink to make history. I need veiled eyelids, black lines, and ruined puppets to make geography. I need a sky wider than longing, and water that is not H2O to make wings. The days are no longer enough to distinguish the missing. I no longer see you because I no longer dream. I offer a tear to the rain as if scattering you in the Dead Sea, and in order to sing you, I need glass to muffle the sound.

Sometimes at night I would sleep open-eyed underneath a sky dripping with stars. I was alive then.

Back of my forehead I feel tonight A whole sky full of stars. Under a western moon. Life is indeed lovely!

Divine reality is not way up in the sky somewhere; it is readily available in the encounters of everyday life, which make hash of my illusions that I can control the ways God comes to me.

Collect beads of night / Fill your / skin with the dark weight of the / wet sky. Let boldness live in your heart / and I will recognize you / amongst the many / and claim you as my own