Quotes About Sky

Under white clouds, cielo di Pisa. Out of all this beauty something must come.

We have often had this particular exchange about climate and landscape and why we both feel so lonely here uprooted. It was what each of us had wanted of course. Besides wanting to experience a place we hated, we wanted to be insomniacs and loners, losers and drop-outs. To know the sky was the only location of meaning and joy left to us.

First you might cry. Because shame and loneliness are almost one. Shame at existing in the first place. Shame at being visible, taking up space, breathing some of the sky, sleeping in a whole bed, asking for a share. Loneliness feels so much like shame, it always seems to need a little more time on its own.

David had once told me that there was no sky as totally black as the African sky, where the stars hung so low that one could almost reach out to pluck them from the heavens. [270]

And my heart opened like a flower under sky, its petals of desire, its stamens of dreams…

El campo de olivos se abre y se cierra como un abanico. Sobre el olivar hay un cielo hundido y una lluvia oscura de luceros fríos. Tiembla junco y penumbra a la orilla del río. Se riza el aire gris. Los olivos, están cargados de gritos. Una bandada de pájaros cautivos, que mueven sus larguísimas colas en lo sombrío.

I alone with my undiscovered love, without heart, without tears, towards the skies' impossible roof with a huge sun to console me.

Between my shoulders, my full and golden soul takes wing. The April sky turns my eyes indigo.

El mundo solo por el cielo solo. Son las colinas de martillos y el triunfo de la hierba espesa. Son los vivísimos hormigueros y las monedas en el fango. El mundo solo por el cielo solo

The he-lizard is crying. The she-lizard is crying. The he-lizard and the she-lizard with little white aprons. Have lost without wanting to their wedding ring. Ah, their little leaden wedding ring, ah, their little ring of lead! A large sky without people carries the birds in its balloon. The sun, rotund captain, wears a satin waistcoat. Look how old they are! How old the lizards are! Oh, how they cry and cry, Oh! Oh! How they go on crying!

Oh! lovely voices of the sky Which hymned the Saviour's birth, Are ye not singing still on high, Ye that sang, "Peace on earth"?

Aquella noche tuve una repentina antipatía por los tanques y una apasionada simpatía por el cielo.

There's this sky I know

There's this sky I like.

Dream Song of Thunders: Sometimes I go about pitying Myself, While I am carried by the wind Across the sky.

Sometimes since I've been in the garden I've looked up through the trees at the sky and I have had a strange feeling of being happy as if something was pushing and drawing in my chest and making me breathe fast. Magic is always pushing and drawing and making things out of nothing. Everything is made out of magic, leaves and trees, flowers and birds, badgers and foxes and squirrels and people. So it must be all around us. In this garden - in all the places.

I stared up at the ebbing quarter moon and the stars scattered like a handful of salt across the faraway sky...

And we took off-whoosh-into the night. Through the clouds, we hurtled up into the sky. And this man farted. I will never forget it as long as I live. Not only was it the worst fart, it was the longest. Maybe, it was the position he was in, he had squeezed his ass all up. But he was kinda leanin over and pointing his ass up toward me. And it made the strangest noise. It was like cloth tearing.

There are just as many stars in the sky at noon as at midnight, although we cannot see them in the sun's glare.

Think of the storm roaming the sky uneasily like a dog looking for a place to sleep in, listen to it growling.

Doua lucruri imi stapanesc mintea, mereu si staruitor minunandu-ma: cerul instelat deasupra mea si legea morala in mine.

They] turn their faces upward, and from the abyss of the Prague streets gaze at the strip of sky overhead, at the clouds, to see what time it really was, according to nature and not by the clock.

It was the kind of horse they have in mines—he must have worked underground somewhere because his eyes were so beautiful, the kind I would see in stokers and people who worked in artificial light all day or in the light of safety lamps and emerged from the pit or the furnace room to look up at the beautiful sky because to such eyes all skies are beautiful.

Attraverso i libri ho appreso che i cieli non sono affatto umani e che un uomo che sa pensare, anche lui non è umano, non che non lo voglia, ma ciò contrasta col giusto modo di pensare.