Quotes About Breeze

Gray-eyed Athena sent them a favorable breeze, a fresh west wind, singing over the wine-dark sea.

The day had started out suitably dour for a Good Friday, but had suddenly changed its mind and decided to twirl about and show off its autumn colors after all. There was a brisk, flirty breeze, and the sun was pouring through the red leaves of her mother's flame tree.

She quite liked this aspect of her personality: the way her mood could change from melancholy to euphoric because of a breeze or a flavor or a beautiful chord progression. It meant she never had to feel too down about feeling down.

She poured me another drink and in the light breeze of her movements I smelled again the manufactured smell of these women.

We tugged on door levers and jumped out, all our jackets fluttering in the wet breeze. I was limping—the toe still stung like crazy. DuBois and I moved in slowly, behind the eight armed tactical officers, who were sprinting into Yu's open garage, brandishing weapons. "On the ground, FBI! FBI!" Screaming is standard operating procedure too. Intimidation, again. In

and the wind-chime laugh that

In the dense green of the canopy, with the rich blue of the sky between the leaves; with a breeze keeping her skin cool, and the faint scent of the flowers delighting her whenever she sensed it; with the rustle of the leaves, the song of the hundreds of birds, and the distant murmur of the waves on the seashore, all her senses were lulled and nurtured, and if she could have stopped thinking, she would have been entirely lapped in bliss.

Then they had gone outside, onto the steps, where a breeze lifted secondhand confetti

Bong country is beautiful. Lush green forest, a sweet breeze. There are pygmy hippopotamuses here and monkeys; a sense of Liberia's possibilities. Rich in natural resources, cool in the hills, hot on the beach.

Jeff Bruce threw in. "Speakin' of winds, he's de wind and

A wilted breeze slipped in through the open window and riffled the leaves of the Varga calendar and the brunette in the red bathing suit wiggled her hips at me. She was wasting her time.

Oh, my God, this amazing cool breeze is coming through my window and the sun is shining. I'm happy.

I hear music Mighty fine music, The murmur of a morning breeze up there The rattle of the milkman on the stair Sure that's music...

his scent like leather and fresh wind

Lift up your dark heart and sing a song about how time drifts past you like the gentlest, almost imperceptible breeze. — Jim Harrison, from "Cold Poem," Saving Daylight . (Copper Canyon Press 2006)

Out the kitchen window, in the cool autumn breeze between where I sat and our family burial ground, I felt for an instant I could see time moving in the air. I knew I was being foolish but it struck me as odd that time never went backward except in the fragile structure of memory.

At the door to the hall, she switched off the lights, leaving the mouse in the shadows that, when the twilight whispered away on the evening breeze, would have what magic this world allowed

He lay on his side, looking out at the sea. So blue at this time of day, so vibrant as the afternoon died around it. He lay there feeling the breeze on his face and the sea spreading out forever under the darkening sky and he felt so small, so utterly human, but it wasn't a debilitating feeling. It was an oddly proud one. To be a part of this. A speck, yes. But part of it, one with it. Breathing.

The light faded slowly, retreating through the trees. The thick mossy trunks grew dense with shadow, edges still rimmed with a fugitive light that hid among the leaves, green shadows shifting with the sunset breeze.

We come and go from mystery and, in between, we try to forget. But a breeze passing in a still room stirs my hair now and then in soft affection. I think it is my mother.

arisaid. A night breeze brushed a strand of hair across my face.

Moon hangs, almost full pieces of cloud scatter, glide in soft, summer breeze. We lay in our meadow listening to the sound of night....

Not a breath of air stirred over the free and open prairie; the clouds were like light piles of cotton; and where the blue sky was visible, it wore a hazy and languid aspect.

Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run.