Quotes About Lightning

The faery was beautiful- stunning - the way a storm is when you wake up and see lightning streak across the sky. And probably just as dangerous.

I've been struck by lightning several times. Three, to be exact: once in high school, once in college, the last time afterward. None of them was my wife, by the way. You don't marry the girl who strikes you like lightning, because that doesn't last forever and you never know what you might be left with when it wears away.

Love leaped out in front of us like a murderer in an alley leaping out of nowhere, and struck us both at once. As lightning strikes, as a Finnish knife strikes! She, by the way, insisted afterwards that it wasn't so, that we had, of course, loved each other for a long, long time, without knowing each other, never having seen each other…

Sad to be long...thunder & lightning only happens when its raining!!!!

Thoughts are lightning, the mystical fire of the universe.

Fragments swam in his blood, weaving their way through his entire system. A system devoid of wildfire. Devoid too of the golden lightning. Uncaring of the loss and of the agony in his chest, he opened his eyes . . . and looked into those of liquid silver.

Perhaps, for some, love strikes like lightning, but for me, it crept upon me like a thief in the night. A very handsome thief, who has quite stolen my once-lonely heart.

As it is written: "She cuppeth the lightning in her hand. She commandeth it to strike." from the Book of Eve, 13–17

In the lowlands around Lake Superior weather fronts, with their attendant changes in pressure, gave her headaches. Not so the mountain storms. Cracking thunder and flashing lightning filled the air with ozone till it tingled in the lungs, rejuvenating body and spirit much the same as the air at the seaside or near waterfalls.

He was the chief of all the horses; and when he snorted, it was a flash of lightning and his eyes were like the sunset star.

My bay had lightning stripes all over him and his mane was cloud. And when I breathed, my breath was lightning.

Evil was amongst us, defying the Emperor's rule of order. And I served the Emperor. I always have. I always will. It is my oath. It is the thunder and the lightning.

The world lit up like a silent photograph, flat and grainy, limning the tree stark as a charcoal slash against a parchment sky. Lightning exploded like bluewhite cats-o'-nine-tails until sound rolled and cracked and splintered and Marghe could no longer tell if it was the ground shaking or her muscles; she felt deaf and blind and exposed to her core.

It was like a flash of lightning amidst the dark of night, when for some reason you suddenly see an extraordinary multitude of things at once: the bed canopy, the folding screen, the window, the canary fluttering on its perch, and a glass with a silver spoon in it and spots of magnesium on its handle. It is probably the quality of fear to have big eyes.

listen to me as one listens to the rain, the years go by, the moments return, do you hear the footsteps in the next room? not here, not there: you hear them in another time that is now, listen to the footsteps of time, inventor of places with no weight, nowhere, listen to the rain running over the terrace, the night is now more night in the grove, lightning has nestled among the leaves, a restless garden adrift-go in, your shadow covers this page.

It's just like what they say about lightening; It's safest to stand where it has already struck.

Nothing's queer," stated the Virginian, "except marriage and lightning. Them two occurrences can still give me a sensation of surprise.

De pronto lo antiguo se precipita. Lo antiguo cae de las nubes. Es el rayo mismo. El trueno es la voz de este animal enorme y extremadamente negro que se llama tormenta. Los relámpagos saltan desde lo alto del cielo con el deseo de venir a tocar la tierra.

Se Meaume fosse a natureza, teria feito apenas os relâmpagos ou a Lua ou as vagas cheias de espuma do oceano na tormenta embatendo nos rochedos negros da costa. Ou a nudez desvelada por acaso por baixo de um pano. Ou um osso de animal ou um caroço de sílex encontrado na terra.

hatred can either strike us dead, like lightning, or illuminate us. It shocks us into seeing what is hidden in the landscape. Hatred can be confined to reason, but kept from the heart.

A tree doesn't make a thunderstorm, but any fool knows where lightning's going to strike.

Just a little. Just the first faint breath of love... It wasn't dramatic, like some bolt of lightning with a crack of thunder following. It was more like when flint strikes steel and the spark fades almost too fast for you to see. But still, you know it's there, down where you can't see, kindling.

Everyone knew what he was thinking. Certainly there were demons in the world. But they were like Tehlu's angels. They were like heroes and kings. They belonged in stories. They belonged out there. Taborlin the Great called up fire and lightning to destroy demons. Tehlu broke them in his hands and sent them howling into the nameless void. Your childhood friend didn't stomp one to death on the road to Baedn-Bryt. It was ridiculous.

A ghost wants revenge, a demon wants your soul, a shamble-man is hungry and cold. It makes them less terrible. Things we understand we can try to control. But Chandrian come like lightning from a clear blue sky. Just destruction. No rhyme or reason to it.