Quotes About Sky

Love sets your heart free. Be not afraid: dig deep, Take a deep breath And reach for the sky In your lover's heart.

He longed for the deep as she longed for the night sky and for white lilies floating on water -- although she still tried to convince herself that love alone could feed her soul.

I, too, await The hour of thy great wind of love and hate. When shall the stars be blown about the sky, Like the sparks blown out of a smithy, and die?

Unrequited love is so boring. Weeping under a blue-black sky is for suckers or maniacs.

The fire of love is drawn from the sky rather than the human mind.

How much do I love you? I'll tell you no lie. How deep is the ocean? How high is the sky?

I love old moons. There is something humanized about them; they are dulled a little, and rich in color. One can stare all night at an old moon.

This is not a pleasant April. Some mornings the air is so white and still you might expect a fall of snow, and at night the sky expands, as it does in December.

C'était une nuit de pleine lune. On y voyait comme en plein jour. Une armée de nuages aussi cotonneux que des flocons vint masquer le ciel. Ils étaient des milliers de guerriers blancs à prendre possession du ciel. C'était l'armée de la neige.

The sun has suddenly come out and there is a bright blue sky—all this happened while I wrote a few words! Astonishing!

Whenever I began to question whether God exists, I looked up to the sky and surely there, right there, between the sun and moon, stands my grandmother, singing a long meter hymn, a song somewhere between a moan and a lullaby and I know faith is the evidence of things unseen. And all I have to do is continue trying to be a Christian.

And still the brain continues to yearn, continues to burn, foolishly, with desire. My old man's brain is mocked by a body that still longs to stretch in the sun and form a beautiful shape in someone else's gaze, to lie under a blue sky and dream of helpless, selfless love, to behold itself, illuminated, in the golden light of another's eyes.

That sort of news travels faster than horses, faster than boats. The messengers of the gods carry rumors through the sky the way bees carry pollen and drop them from their wings onto the earth below.

Outside, the crescent moon was high in the sky, shining in its sliver glory.

The moon slipped under a blanket of clouds

No matter what tears were shed or what trials were faced, some things would stay the same. There would always be day and night, stars and sky, hope and rest. There would always be love, always compassion, and there would always be Skandranon. And forever, in the hearts of all the Clans, there would be Urtho—and for his memory, a moment of silence.

You have a long history, he said, when Lanya indicated her story was finished. Ah, Harrier, were I to tell you a long story, we should be here for a sennight, perhaps more. Long stories are best saved for deep winter, when the days are short and time grows heavy. Lanya glanced at the sky.

The sun sank with a sob and darkness waded in from all horizons so that the sky contracted and there was no more light left in the world, when, at this very moment of annihilation, the moon, as though she had been waiting for her cue, sailed up the night.

I looked at sky this morning and realized summer is almost gone which really made me sad because it doesn't seem as though its been here at all.

I looked up through a scatter of fluttering leaves silhouetted against the rosy autumn sunset.

The first brush of violet painted the horizon

Happy were the ages when the starry sky was the map of all possible paths, ages of such perfect social integration that no drug was required to link the hero to the whole.

People are considered as areas that resist light, mistakes in the air, collision sweet spots. At the time of this writing, the whole world is a crime scene: People eat space with their bodies; they are rain decayers; the wind is slaughtered when they move. A retaliation is probably coming. Should a person cease to move, she would cease to kill the sky, and the world might begin to recover.

he spied a string of red balloons trailing upward into the sky above the pine and cottonwood trees that shielded the old business district from the newer retailers on the highway.