Quotes About Breeze

When a fresh springtime breeze embraces you — fling your arms wide open and hug it right back!

The night was filled with insects and a hesitant breeze that seemed to change direction with each gust.

Then Nature shaped a poet's heart -- a lyre From out whose chords the lightest breeze that blows Drew trembling music, wakening sweet desire.

A morning breeze blew through the campus of Prufrock Preparatory School, rustling the brown lawn and knocking against the stone arch with the motto printed on it. "Memento Mori"-"Remember you will die." The Baudelaire orphans looked up at the motto and vowed that before they died, they would solve this dark and complicated mystery that cast a shadow over their lives.

They went to the sands, to watch the flowing of the tide, which a fine south-easterly breeze was bringing in all the grandeur which so flat a shore admitted. They praised the morning; gloried in the sea; sympathized in the delight of the fresh-feeling breeze- and were silent...

The leaves themselves had voices, soft ones. They brushed and stroked against one another, and nodded and bowed and rippled and rustled, their interleaving gently stirred by the breeze. It sounded like whispered conversation.

A cool breeze laden with iodine blew in from the sea.

It was a morning when all nature shouted Fore! The breeze, as it blew gently up from the valley, seemed to bring a message of hope and cheer, whispering of chip-shots holed and brassies landing squarely on the meat. The fairway, as yet unscarred by the irons of a hundred dubs, smiled greenly up at the azure sky; and the sun, peeping above the trees, looked like a giant golf-ball perfectly lofted by the mashie of some unseen god and about to drop dead by the pin of the eighteenth.

A breeze lifted off the ocean and several hundred notes from the wind chimes tinkled like ice shaken in silver cups. They altered the mood of the forest the way an orchestra does a theater when it begins tuning up its instruments.

Lonely Day I saw your dress sway with the breeze at the end of a lonely day. I saw your dress sway, drying on a hanger, play, dance with summer ease. Softly, I saw your dress sway and wished I were the breeze.

At 11:00 a.m. the launch puts me ashore and I walk up on the ridge overlooking the sea. Even Nature in her harsher aspects in the tropics soothes and heals. I stand and loiter long on the breezy ridge and look north upon the great blue crescent of the sea. I have but one thought, and am glad to be alone with it on the hills. — JOHN BURROUGHS AMERICAN NATURALIST

"In springtime, love is carried on the breeze. Watch out for flying passion or kisses whizzing by your head."

Once more, amid the breeze, the shouting, the slanting sunlight on the high mountain, was shed that glamour, that strange invisible light of friendship, adventure and content.

The balloons' snub noses swung left and right in the fickle breeze, giving them the anxious air of compasses abandoned by north.

When she walked through the door, the sidewalk swayed beneath her feet as if blown by a light breeze, and she stumbled against Dells, who grabbed her before she could fall. "Whoopsy daisy," he said. "Beware of the sidewalk. It's meaner than it looks." "I like whiskey," Harper informed him solemnly. "But not this much whiskey.

but there were ceiling fans, which is my idea of nature.

The windows were wide open,

We journey up the storied Nile; The timeless water seems to smile; The slow and swarthy boatman sings; The dahabeah spreads her wings; We catch the breeze and sail away, Along the dawning of the day, Along the East, wherein the morn Of life and truth was gladly born.

The breeze of Spring is not so blithe, The sea-gull not so free, No silver fish so light and lithe To wind in the green sea. Nor e'er did subtle alchemist Compound such wondrous dyes Of sapphire sky and emerald mist As the hue of Barbara's eyes.

A strong man sails by ash breeze!

A steady land breeze blew through the trees behind the house. The heavy new snow tumbled from spruce branches, first here, then there, filling the whole woods with steps and whispers. Between the tree roots on the sun side, the soil was showing dark and wet with little sprigs of lingon.

It may be more accurate to say that despair, owing to some evil trick played upon the sick brain by the inhabiting psyche, comes to resemble the diabolical discomfort of being imprisoned in a fiercely overheated room. And because no breeze stirs this caldron, because there is no escape from this smothering confinement, it is entirely natural that the victim begins to think ceaselessly of oblivion.

Your life is like a little flute complaining A long way off, beyond the willow trees: A long way off, and nothing left remaining But memory of a music on the breeze.

Opening the window, I sit at Taryn's desk and sip nettle tea, drinking in the sharp salt scent of the sea and the wild honeysuckle and the distant breeze through the trees. I take a deep breath, at home and homesick all at the same time.