Quotes About Storms

There is only one secure foundation: a genuine, deep relationship with Jesus Christ, which will carry you through any and all turmoil. No matter what storms are raging all around, you'll stand firm if you stand on His love.

It always rains on tents. Rainstorms will travel thousands of miles, against prevailing winds for the opportunity to rain on a tent.

The whole climate is changing: the winds, the ocean currents, the storm patterns, snow packs, snowmelt, flooding, droughts. Temperature is just a bit of it.

Jesus is the center of our faith. I keep returning to the center because I want to be centered. Here, clinging closer to Jesus, we are safe, protected,shielded from the storms of life. The storms will come; we will still be challenged, stretched, wrung out. But we will be anchored in Him. Secure, unshaken.

It never rains but it pours.

Before the fruits of prosperity can come, the storms of life need to first bring the required rains of testing, which mixes with the seeds of wisdom to produce a mature harvest.

For humans as well as for ships, dark stormy nights are better teachers than tranquil sunny days.

Your chances of getting hit by lightning go up if you stand under a tree, shake your fist at the sky, and say "Storms suck!" —Johnny carson

But we must always come back to this consolation: The Lord planned our sorrow, so let us submit to his will. Even in the throes of grief, groans, and tears, we must encourage ourselves with this reflection, so that our hearts may cheerfully bear up while the storms pass over our heads (John 21:18).

I would not live alway; I ask not to stay Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way.

What man's life is not overtaken by one or more of those tornadoes that send us out of the course, and fling us on rocks to shelter as best we may?

Steadfast a lamp burns sheltered from the wind; Such is the likeness of the Yogi's mind Shut from sense-storms and burning bright to Heaven.

It is not a certain conformity of manners that the painting of Van Gogh attacks, but rather the conformity of institutions themselves. And even external nature, with her climates, her tides, and her equinoctial storms, cannot, after Van Gogh's stay upon earth, maintain the same gravitation.

I think it was lucky that during most of the work on the Odyssey I lived on Homer's sea in houses that were, in one case, shaken by the impact of the Mediterranean winter storms on the rocks below.

Even as our unwitting alterations to Earth's carbon and hydrological cycles slowly make storms more damaging, our ability to monitor our planet from space and make reliable short-term forecasts have equipped us enormously to withstand them.

Love. The wide sea that one word conjures up, all the currents and tides and storms and oily swells of it.

Even microscopic offering cement our commitment to follow God in anything. This grace-given resolve to celebrate Christ in all things is fortified in the storms, not on the still seas.

Our efforts to fight back with joy are riddled with the temptation to turn our backs, throw up our hands, and abandon the battle. That's precisely when we need to praise, when our decision to rejoice matters most. Even microscopic offerings cement our commitment to follow God in anything. This grace-given resolve to celebrate Christ in all things is fortified in the storms, not on the still seas.

You will hear thunder and remember me, and think: she wanted storms...

You will hear thunder and remember me, And think: she wanted storms. The rim Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson, And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.

Then she tells me that Jesus is still here because Jesus was once here. And parts of Jesus are still floating in the air. She tells me Jesus' DNA is part of the collective DNA. She tells we are all part of Jesus, we are all Jesus in part. She tells me to breathe deep during all our storms because you can sometimes taste Jesus in a good, hard rain.

The temples are a refuge from life's storms even a never-failing beacon guiding us to safety.

I don't just wish you rain, Beloved - I wish you the beauty of storms...

The rain thickened; then slacked, then came down again in floods; the night crackled and roared with change and iron cold. Drunk with coziness, the pup wallowed beside me and groaned, and I remember wondering, before I slept, a little more about the relationship of storms to man … If, being animal, we ring like guitar strings to nature's furies, what hope can there be for our ultimate, planned peacefulness?