Quotes About Storm

Great works of art pass through us like storm-winds, flinging open the doors of perception, pressing upon the architecture of our beliefs with their transforming powers.

This storm is dangerous

No morn has ever dawned more favourably than ours did; and no day was ever more clouded than the present. Wisdom and good examples are necessary at this time to rescue the political machine from the impending storm.

If ultimately there was a tantalizing rectitude about her, she was none the less cunning: her exceeding gentleness, howbeit mitigated sometimes by the disturbing oppressiveness that foretells a storm in the air, left me utterly blind.

I don't care! I'd rather walk all the way to London than stay here now!' 'It's an engaging thought,' said Stephen. 'Orphan of the Storm.

As there was no further precaution possible I enjoyed the extraordinary magnificence of the storm with a free mind . . . and all the wonderful and terrible things that happen in high places .

What shall we do? Where shall we go?" thought Jessie. The wind was blowing more and more clouds across the sky, and the lightning was very near. She walked a little way into the woods, looking for a place to go out of the rain. "Where shall we go?" she thought again. Then she saw something ahead of her in the woods. It was an old boxcar. "What a good house that will be in the rain!" she thought.

rolled the door shut, and then it really began to rain.

Everyone was soaking wet. But they could see the Coast Guard coming

News of distant places was accepted on par with a thunderstorm seen off in the distance - a far-off disturbance that would blow over before it touched them.

I had strange dreams," he said. "Perhaps it was the storm. But I dreamed that a cup of water turned into a hawk and flew off to a land of snowcapped mountains, and then the mountains burst into flame.

The background of my life was white and angry, with violent weather.

I feel that art has something to do with the achievement of stillness in the midst of chaos. A stillness which characterizes prayer, too, and the eye of the storm. I think that art has something to do with an arrest of attention in the midst of distraction.

I've wanted to die for a long time and one day, I'm going out like a Texas lightning storm – big, bold, beautiful, deadly, dead and done with.

she wants to to be loved for a few hours at least. I look away, people need peace. it's raining hard outside; lives are breaking in the storm.

The storm howled out of the west like the terrible voice of God, shouting down the heretics who doubted the coming Apocalypse.

In this crisis we praise you for Jesus, the high and safe Rock, the ultimate trustworthy foundation for any and every storm of life (Matt. 7:24–27). Thank you for rescuing us from building our lives on all kinds of shifting sands.

it was as bright as glory, and you'd have a little glimpse of tree-tops a-plunging about away off yonder in the storm, hundreds of yards further than you could see before; dark as sin again in a second, and now you'd hear the thunder let go with an awful crash, and then go rumbling, grumbling, tumbling, down the sky towards the under side of the world, like rolling empty barrels down-stairs—where

berth in a storm, for they were familiar with marksmanship and doubted if the lightning could hit that small stick at a distance of a mile and a half

Outside a thunderstorm begins to crack and spit rain at the windows. Lightning builds shadows. A wind howls like the wounded, filling everyone with cold, bone weary dread.

Outside, the world whistled. The rain was stained.

There's an east wind coming, Watson." "I think not, Holmes. It is very warm." "Good old Watson! You are the one fixed point in a changing age. There's an east wind coming all the same, such a wind as never blew on England yet. It will be cold and bitter, Watson and a good many of us may wither before its blast. But it's God's own wind none the less, and a cleaner, better, stronger land will lie in the sunshine when the storm has cleared.

Es que la vida era sólo una tempestad que arrasaba con todo, dejando tras ella sólo algo yermo e irreconocible?

Zar život nije ništa drugo do oluja koja stalno odnosi ono što je još samo trenutak ranije bilo tu i ostavlja za sobom tek nešto ogoljelo i neprepoznatljivo?