Quotes About Drizzle

Tut, Tut, looks like rain

Tut-tut, it looks like rain

White lined the swells of water. A light, constant drizzle seemed to conspire with the ocean spray to soak everything onboard. It was not a particularly large vessel, which made it all the worse for everyone. For the crew of hardened fishermen, Cornishmen all, this posed no great discomfort. The crewmen at their work looked like gray mice scurrying over a large, wet, wheat barrel.

I love being at home now, improving my cooking. I've got a really bad memory, so my first attempts were a disaster - I'd forget what ingredients to put in. But I do a lasagna that's a crowd-pleaser, and a good lemon drizzle cake, which I take to my mom's for the Sunday roast to fatten the family up.

I work much better in sunshine. It's drizzle and grayness that I don't like.

sky dribbled just enough to make the windshield wipers squeal at the slowest setting.

Tante Atie once said that love is like rain. It comes in a drizzle sometimes. Then it starts pouring and if you're not careful it will drown you.

Date syrup is a natural sweetener that has wonderful richness and treacly depth; I drizzle it over semolina porridge.

Aboveground it rained all the time. He had never seen so much rain. It did not come in thunderstorms, or sudden cloudbursts, to be followed by the relief of clear skies and dry weather. Rather, it was a soft drizzle that drifted down all day, sometimes all week, creeping up the legs of his trousers and down the back of his shirt.

I like that kind of weather. Constant drizzle. At the Olympic trials in 2012, my mom was, like, 'It's pouring rain out there, Mary. You shouldn't even notice it. You're Irish.'

Ordinary bourgeois life held no force sufficiently compelling to drag one out into the chill drizzle without so much as an umbrella.

Thankfully the rain had softened to a light drizzle, but the murky gray of the sky painted a dreary mausoleum atmosphere.

There's a certain kind of rain that falls only in comics, a thick, persistent drizzle, much heavier than normal water, that bounces off whatever it hits, dripping from fedoras, running slowly down windowpanes and reflecting the doom in bad men's hearts. It's called an "eisnershpritz," and it's named after the late Will Eisner, one of the preeminent stylists of twentieth-century comics, who never drew a foreboding scene that couldn't be made a little more foreboding with a nice big downpour.

It began to drizzle rain and he turned on the windshield wipers; they made a great clatter like two idiots clapping in church.

In Portland, it rains all the time - but who cares? That's not funny. That's not universal.

Love is like the rain. It comes in a drizzle sometimes. Then it starts pouring and if you're not careful it will drown you.

The rain was steady and unrelenting and, like all steady and unrelenting things, boring.

Although the drizzle was excluded by roof and walls from the house, the moisture-charged atmosphere could not be shut out, and it made the interior only less wretched than outside the house.

So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.

Love is like the rain. It comes in a drizzle sometimes. Then it starts pouring and if you're not careful it will drown you.

had begun to drizzle, so they relocated to a latticed gazebo used for waterfront weddings and the occasional renegade bris.

Even without the drizzle and approaching darkness, it was a miserable time to be digging up dead people.

The long drizzle had begun. Pedestrians had turned up collars and trousers at the bottom. Hands were hidden in the pockets of the umbrella-less - umbrellas were up. The street looked like a sea of round, black-cloth roofs, twisting, bobbing, moving. Trucks and vans were rattling in a noisy line, and everywhere men were shielding themselves as best they could.

Weather My folder of poems labeled "weather" holds no clues as to whether or not there'll be any weather to count on, say, a hard rain like "little nails, or that deluge "plunging radiant" now that we've plunged into war and wars don't stop like rain stops like that last slow drizzle onto the old tin bathroom vent sweet hint of growth in the soft wet drift north fire or ice, fire or ice are you breathing, are you lucky enough to be breathing