Quotes About Window

I push throughthe wind to the north-facing window and stand before it. 'I will bring her back!' I shout into the darkness. I do this because I know Rhauk will be listening.

Yet with all the advantages over both friends and enemies which I now possessed I could not honestly say I was happy. I knew I could have every possible enjoyment and amusement the world had to offer--I knew I was one of the most envied among men, and yet, as I stood looking out of the window at the persistently falling rain, I was conscious of a bitterness rather than a sweetness in the full cup of fortune.

And outside the window was like a map, except it was in 3 dimensions and it was life-size because it was the thing it was a map of.

Put the kettle on. Look out the kitchen window. Love that remains.

brunch, such as it was, consisted of about five tables of Sunday tourists who'd wandered into the empty dining room by mistake while window shopping and been too embarrassed to leave after realizing their mistake.

As we walked along the flatblock marina, I was calm on the outside, but thinking all the time - Now it was to be Georgie the general, saying what we should do and what not to do, and Dim as his mindless greeding bulldog. But suddenly, I viddied that thinking was for the gloopy ones, and that the oomny ones use like, inspiration and what Bog sends. Now it was lovely music that came into my aid. There was a window open with the stereo on, and I viddied right at once what to do.

There was something awesome in the thought of the solitary mortal standing by the open window and summoning in from the gloom outside the spirits of the nether world.

Reverie by the open window in the sweet futility of a mild evening was yet to strike the Australian male as a requirement. (There would be the question of fly screens, for one thing.)

But it's as my mother, bless her, says: When a madman breaks a window, it's never his own….

lilo on the floor next to my bed was empty. I looked out of the window

I cannot live without brainwork. What else is there to live for? Stand at the window here. Was ever such a dreary, dismal, unprofitable world? See how the yellow fog swirls down the street and drifts across the duncoloured houses. What could be more hopelessly prosaic and material?

Obviously this is engagement ring city. Couples are wandering along and girls are pointing through the windows and the men are smiling but all look slightly sick whenever their girlfriends turn away.

loneliness gives you opportunity to look the beauty of out of window

It is dark. You cannot see. Only the hint of stars out the broken window. And a voice as old as the Snake from the Garden whispers, 'I will hold your hand.

Winifred's, you know, where Ethel's girls were.' 'Yes, of course I know Miss Rogers,' he said. His dark hair receded from a forehead that seemed always moist, as were his dark and mournful eyes. As soon as they heard his voice – low, catarrhal and with such gentle inflections – some of the women, who had been sitting in a group by the window, got up and came over to him. 'Professor Rybeck,' one said. 'We are beside ourselves

Ellen looked around the room with an odd expression, for the first few seconds not taking in the collection spread across the tables, but just taking in the library: the smell of ink and foxy paper and old wood, the green view of the river beyond the leaded casement window propped open just an inch. As if she loved it, but was a little scared to be there.

A pungent smell of manure blew in the window. "The odor of these Scottish wildflowers is astonishing," Edie said

You have the nicest window, you know? None of the others can even compete. It´s not flashy like the others, or bleary – your window gives of this nice, quiet light.

One day there was a misunderstanding about our appointment and when I called for Modigliani, I found him out - but I decided to wait for him a few minutes. I held an armful of red roses. The window, which was above the locked gates of the studio, was open. To while away the time, I started to throw the flowers into the studio. Modigliani didn't come and I left. --Anna Akhmatova on Amedeo Modigliani

A glance out the window showed the police car's headlights glowing lemon through the violet-hued dusk

The window-cleaners had arrived shortly after breakfast and it was a kind of game trying to evade them. If I go down to the uttermost ends of the earth, Jane thought, seizing a flattened pillow and beating it into roundness, there they will find me.

Waking in a strange bed, I'd forgotten magpies until this morning. Beyond the window, one flies over the weathered picket fence, black-white staccato wing beat: moonlit cloud against night sky, snow-streaked shadowed mountain, manic-depressive, winged declaration of disunion.

Sky's gray sheet spreads icy rain. Through the night we heard the branches cracking. Now they bend with the bowed ache of apostrophes. Backs to the window, sitting on the couch, we listen as the radio announces the list of schools closed.

Eleanor Rigby Picks up the rice in the church where a wedding has been Lives in a dream Waits at the window Wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door Who is it for?