Quotes About Lightning

Sometimes love strikes like lightning, and its power is as blinding. Other times it comes gently, creeps up on you unawares and covers you like a blanket.

Hubo una vez un Rayo que cayó dos veces en el mismo sitio; pero encontró que ya la primera había hecho suficiente daño, que ya no era necesario, y se deprimió mucho.

Who in an orchestra is most likely to be struck by lightning?" he called to his children. "The conductor.

There was a slashing, new, impossibly loud crack as lightning seemed to hit the shelter itself and Brian saw the top of the pine next to the opening suddenly explode and felt/saw the bolt come roaring down the tree, burning and splitting and splintering the wood and bark, and he saw it hit Derek.

Electricity is really just organized lightning

Often, in books, I find female power to be cartoonish - power is a process, an evolution - it has responsibilities. It's not as simple as picking up your lightning bolt and throwing it at someone.

You know, you might not think that Wigglytuff can, like, throw a thunder or lightning-type move at you. But, oh, just you watch.

I've been forgotten here. Left alone talking to lightning storms, studying the mysterious patterns the dust of dead people makes as it floats through the last light of day.

In the distance the sky sparked and caught on fire, glowing green and gold and purple. Over the village of Paradise lightning jumped from cloud to cloud and then it put down long legs and walked the earth. The thunder came with a great rip of sound. Hannah closed her eyes and saw the light still, throbbing bloodred.

Over the village of Paradise lightning jumped from cloud to cloud and then it put down long legs and walked the earth.

Time passes by like lightning. Before you know it you're struck down.

Whenever he put his fingers into it, it rattled with the trembling of his hand, and the sound was just like the sound of fire. I noticed this at the time and it seemed natural to me. I more or less assumed that the thunder and lightning were Creation tipping its hat to him as if to say, Glad to see you in the stands, Reverend, or maybe it said, Why Reverend, what in this grieving world are you doing here at a sporting event?

Like that lightning that comes out of the blue when there's not even a storm going on, just a crazy crack in the sky. With something like that right in front of you, you can't help but feel there's new possibilities out there.

The Dordogne in 1984 was the nadir. Diarrhea, moths like flying hamsters, the blowtorch heat. Awake at three in the morning on a damp and lumpy mattress. Then the storm. Like someone hammering sheets of tin. Lightning so bright it came through the pillow. In the morning sixty, seventy dead frogs turning slowly in the pool. And at the far end something larger and furrier, a cat perhaps, or the Franzetti's dog, which Katie was poking with a snorkel.

SOCRATES. Silence, old man, give heed to the prayers.... Oh! most mighty king, the boundless air, that keepest the earth suspended in space, thou bright Aether and ye venerable goddesses, the Clouds, who carry in your loins the thunder and the lightning, arise, ye sovereign powers and manifest yourselves in the celestial spheres to the eyes of the sage.

Such a suitable word, stroke. I'd heard it since childhood without fully understanding its meaning, but it sounded, even through a haze of sleep and dope, just like itself: abrupt and brutal and irreversible. A stroke of lightning, the stroke of midnight, the stroke of a pen.

This was the pause when history held its breath, the hushed moment between the lightning flash and the advent of the first concussion. Soon the thunder would be rolling round the world; and soon there might be no world at all, while he and his people would be homeless exiles among the stars.

I'd open my eyes and look out at the aching blue of the ocean–a color I had never seen in nature and that most likely only exists in the middle of the Atlantic, a gray blue like a storm cloud full of unspent lightning and unfallen rain.

Man only escapes from the laws of this world in lightning flashes. Instants when everything stands still, instants of contemplation, of pure intuition, of mental void, of acceptance of the moral void. It is through such instants that he is capable of the supernatural.

Man only escape from the laws of this world in lightning flashes. Instants when everything stands still, instants of contemplation, of pure intuition, of mental void, of acceptance of the moral void. It is through such instants that he is capable of the supernatural.

stillborn, and the plague, the fiery god of fever hurls down on the city, his lightning slashing through us— raging plague in all its vengeance, devastating the house of Cadmus!

Living appears good, long, and tiresome, but it is way too short than a single stroke of lightning.

One of these days lightning is going to fill the sky from the rising of the sun to its setting, and there is going to appear in the clouds one like a son of man with his mighty angels in flaming fire. And we will see him clearly. And whether from terror or sheer excitement, we will tremble and we will wonder how, how we ever lived so long with such a domesticated, harmless Christ.

Pray with me for that touch. If it comes with fire, so be it. If it comes with water, so be it. If it comes with wind, let it come, O God. If it comes with thunder and lightning, let us bow before it. O Lord, come. Come close enough to touch. Shield us with the asbestos of grace, but no more. Pass through all the way to the heart, and touch. Burn and soak and blow and crash. Or, in a still, small voice. Whatever the means, come. Come all the way and touch our hearts.