Quotes About Monsoon

May in Varanasi. 25° and wet. It's like the 6th circle of the inferno here, Edith - where they flail the arses off the howling heretics and the men who fuck marine life etc. NATO's stomping on the Balkans while India and Pakistan threaten one another with nukes. Dead From the Waist Down on MTV. The humidity's making me horny and mad. I miss Robin. In his new book, Ken Wilbur calls it skin hunger. I feel like I'm building up a charge. Monsoon's on its way.

I don't know about the universe, but I'll make a pact with you. I hereby promise that I'll always dance in the rain at least once, in every one of my monsoons.

My thoughts floated back to the boat sailing on the surreal lake that the monsoon had made of the street.

Monsoon rain fell upon the fountain and surrounding tiles: rain so dense and constant that the sky was a river, and our part of the world was its waterfall.

and my heart was as clean and hungry for promises as a monsoon morning in the gardens of Malabar.

And the rain came on like a monsoon, because it was one.

Here where some ants as small as microdots bite and feel themselves being lifted by the swelling five times as large as their bodies. Rising on their own poison. Here where the cassette now starts up in the next room. During the monsoon, on my last morning, all this Beethoven and rain.

Farming is the riskiest profession in the world since the fate of the crop is closely linked to the behaviour of the monsoon.

For me the Everest solo was the icing on the cake of my climbs: the highest mountain in the world, during a monsoon, and as far as possible even on a new route, of course without oxygen.

You know that melancholy feeling when you watch the end of a movie and you're crying - but also there is hope? I wanted that feeling in 'Monsoon.' I don't want people to be like, 'This is a really depressing EP. I just want to cry the whole way through.'

Because it's Glasgow, where the weather offers you a creative combination of hypothermia and sunburn simultaneously: and right now it's playing a DJ mix with six El Nino events, a monsoon, and a drought on the turntables.

To know India and her peoples, one has to know the monsoon. one has to know the monsoon. It is not enough to read about it in books, or see it on the cinema screen, or hear someone talk about it. It has to be a personal experience because nothing short of living through it can fully convey all it means to a people for whom it is not only the source of life, but also their most exciting impact with nature.

What the four seasons of the year mean to the European, the one season of the monsoon means to the Indian. It is preceded by desolation; it brings with it hopes of spring; it has the fullness of summer and the fulfillment of autumn all in one.

What the four seasons of the year mean to the European, the one season of monsoon means to the Indian.

I don't think carrying an umbrella during monsoons is luck.

I love the Mumbai monsoons, but it really does get messy.

I'm extremely into Greek Mythology and know almost everything about the classic Greek myths.

Aberrations in monsoon behaviour are not uncommon, having been with us throughout our agricultural history.

THE TAILINGS OF the monsoon season moved across the sun that evening, darkening and wetting the land and lighting the sky with electricity that quivered and disappeared between the buttes and the clouds.

You know what death smells like? Fish blood that someone has buried in a garden of night-blooming flowers. Or a field mortuary during the monsoon season in a tropical country right after the power generators have failed. Or the buckets that the sugar-worker whores used to pour into the rain ditches behind their cribs on Sunday morning. If that odor comes to you on the wind or in your sleep, you tend to take special notice of your next sunrise.

the woman is rain, and when she falls, she is a monsoon.to love her is to drown.

Jungle rain had no beginning or end; it grew like foliage from the sky, branching and arching to the earth, sometimes in solid thickets entangling the islands, and other times, in tendrils of blue mist curling out of coastal clouds. The jungle breathed an eternal green that fevered men until they dripped sweat the way rubbery jungle leaves dripped the monsoon rain.

I loved Albuquerque! And we were there during monsoon season, which I didn't know was a thing outside of, like, the Far East.

My baptism was a slightly awkward affair. . . . The water trickled down my face and down my neck; though just a beakers worth, it had the refreshing effect of a monsoon rain.