Quotes About Sky

Become the sky. Take an axe to the prison wall. Escape.

Lightning, your presence from ground to sky, no one knows what becomes of me, when you take me so quickly.

This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.

Then from the sad west turning wearily, I saw the pines against the white north sky. Very beautiful, and still, and bending over Their sharp black heads against a quiet sky.

The Hare in the Moon

peacocks flew.

The blackest cloud I've ever seen squatted over Mussoorie, and then it hailed marbles for half an hour. Nothing like a hailstorm to clear the sky . Even as I write, I see a rainbow forming.

for everytime I see the sky I'm aware of belonging to the universe than to just one corner of the earth.

For the time being, the entire earth and the boundless sky.

The world is always the same. Always beautiful: why should we let our delight in it die? The answer to this problem lies in education. If we teach our children to love everything about them - the sky, the air, water, flowers, animals - then they will keep their youthful spirit forever, whatever may happen to them in the trivial world of affairs.

If someone asks about the mind of this monk, say it is no more than a passage of wind in the vast sky.

Ama ruhumuz böyle gökyüzlerinde uçup dururken birdenbire yere inip insan küçüklü?ü ile kar??la?mak ne tuhaf oluyor.

The earth, saith the poet, doth often long after the rain. So is the glorious sky often as desirous to fall upon the earth, which argues a mutual kind of love between them.

The moon is a stone and the sky is full of deadly hardware, but oh God, how beautiful anyway.

Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon...

Now she imagines him dreaming. She imagines him dreaming of her, as she is dreaming of him. Through a sky the color of wet slate they fly towards each other on dark invisible wings.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow. The sky is clear but hard to make out, because of the searchlight; but yes, in the obscured sky a moon does float, newly, a wishing moon, a sliver of ancient rock, a goddess, a wink. The moon is a stone and the sky is full of deadly hardware, but oh God, how beautiful anyway.

Are there stars? he asks her. She nods.

Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon, like a black sun behind cloud cover. Like smoke from an unseen fire, a line of fire just below the horizon, brushfire or a burning city. Maybe night falls because it's heavy, a thick curtain pulled up over the eyes.

Our Creator shall continue to dwell above the sky, and that is where those on earth will end their thanksgiving.

The first time I ever saw a jet, I shot it down.

The first time I ever saw your face, I thought the sun rose in your eyes and the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave to the dark and empty sky, my love.

I'd rather spend my time looking at the sky than listening to Whitney Houston.

There's a rainbow in the sky, all the time, don't be blind