Quotes About Breeze

If my life were a fragrance, it would smell like the sea.

The clouds above us join and separate, The breeze in the courtyard leaves and returns.Life is like that, so why not relax?Who can stop us from celebrating?

The summer morn is bright and fresh, the birds are darting by, As if they loved to breast the breeze that sweeps the cool clear sky.

One smile on the brown hills and naked trees, And the dark rocks whose summer wreaths are cast, And the blue gentian flower, that, in the breeze, Nods lonely, of her beauteous race the last.

I could hear the pop of bed linen snapping in the wind.

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

The breeze of God's grace is blowing continually. You have to set your sail to catch that breeze.

Laughter was like a fresh breeze - it cleaned its way through the body making everything feel good. Did other species have such a simple healer?

A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken.

Winter reaches its peaknot when a great wind screamsfrom the top of its lungs, but when a lazy breeze whispers from the bottom of its heart

My mind is like a room where the door swings free in the breeze, and many visitors come and go and stay and vanish as they will.

Selden and Lily stood still, accepting the unreality of the scene as a part of their own dream-like sensations. It would not have surprised them to feel a summer breeze on their faces, or to see the lights among the boughs reduplicated in the arch of a starry sky. The strange solitude about them was no stranger than the sweetness of being alone in it together.

Sometimes in the evening on Summer days, Even when there's not a breeze at all, it seems Like there's a light breeze blowing for a minute But the trees are unmoving In every leaf of their leaves And our feelings have had an illusion, An illusion of what would please them...

The mare set off for home with the speed of a swallow, and going as smoothly and silently. I never had dreamed of such a motion, fluent and graceful, and ambient, soft as the breeze flitting over the flowers, but swift as the summer lightening.

The scent of new-mown grass wafted on the warm breeze, mingled with the smoke of leaves burning on a distant bonfire. The scents and sounds of an English summer Sunday, unchanged for centuries, Ben thought. Polite

The Germans sometimes chose to disguise mustard with xylyl bromide, a tear gas that smells like lilac, and so it came to pass in the wartime spring that men ran in terror from a breeze scented with blossoming lilac shrubs.

A green and yellow parrot, which hung in a cage outside the door, kept repeating over and over: "Allez vous-en! Allez vous-en! Sapristi! That's all right!" He could speak a little Spanish, and also a language which nobody understood, unless it was the mockingbird that hung on the other side of the door, whistling his fluty notes out upon the breeze with maddening persistence.

This country awakens so many memories, though each seems like some restless sparrow I know will flee any moment into the breeze.

Rommel could smell the sea. At Torbruk the heat and the dust and flies were as bad as they had been in the desert, but it was all made bearable by that occasional whiff of salty dampness in the faint breeze.

The sun was prying up the clouds and lighting the brick front of the hospital rose red. A thin breeze worked at sawing what leaves were left from the oak trees, stacking them neatly agains the wire cyclone fence. There were little brown birds occasionally on the fence: when a puff of leaves would hit the fence the birds would fly off with the wind. It looked at first like the leaves were hitting the fence and turning into birds and flying away.

He throws the torn paper from his window into the October breeze and returns to bed. He falls asleep watching the little fragment of light vibrate across his wall, thinking how much more efficient it would be filling an hourglass with photons instead of those unruly grains of sand.

When delicate and feeling souls are separated, there is not a feature in the sky, not a movement of the elements, not an aspiration of the breeze, but hints some cause for a lover's apprehension.

The air bites shrewdly.

If living sympathy be theirs And leaves and airs, The piping breeze and dancing tree Are all alive and glad as we: Whether this be truth or no I cannot tell, I do not know; Nay--whether now I reason well, I do not know, I cannot tell.