Wind Quotes

The only way he could have her was to shatter this stubborn faith of hers. In doing so, would he shatter her? 'What has this god of yours ever really done for you?' She stood very still for a long moment, her back to him. 'Everything.

I? I am the wind,’ said Thowra. ‘I come, I pass, and I am gone.’ The strange feathers moved up and down, the strange voice said tartly: ‘And are your sons the same?’ ‘My son is the lightning that strikes through the black night. My grandson is light that pierces the dark sky at dawning.’ ‘Ah,’ said the first emu, ‘and we know your daughter is the snow that falls softly from above and clothes the world in white. You want but the rainbow — that is and was and never will be, and is yet the promise of life — and the glittering ice which is there and is gone: then you and your family will possess all magic.

For me, walking in a hard Dakota wind can be like staring at the ocean: humbled before its immensity, I also have a sense of being at home on this planet, my blood so like the sea in chemical composition, my every cell partaking of air. I live about as far from the sea as is possible in North America, yet I walk in a turbulent ocean. Maybe that child was right when he told me that the world is upside-down here, and this is where angels drown.

And all the winds go sighing, For sweet things dying

A star shoots bleeding across the skyline, a companion to the black wind. Silence comes sweeping across everything.

A JEWELRY STORE NAMED INDIAIf you hold this Dazzling emeraldUp to the sky,It will shine a billion Beautiful miraclesPainted from the tearsOf the Most High.Plucked from the lush gardensOf a yellowish-green paradise,Look inside this hypnotic gemAnd a kaleidoscope of Titillating, Soul-raising Sights and colorsWill tease and seduceYour eyes and mind.Tell me, sir.Have you ever heardA peacock sing?Hold your earTo this mystical stoneAnd you will hearSacred hymns flowingTo the vibrationsOf the perfumedWind.

It was not a bed with curtains, but a bed with doors like shutters. This may not seem like a nice way of having a bed, but we would all be glad of the wooden curtains about us at night if we lived in such a cottage, on the side of a hill along which the wind swept like a wild river. Through the cottage it would be streaming all night long. And a poor woman with a cough, or a man who has been out in the cold all day, is very glad of such a place to lie in, and leave the the rest of the house to the wind and the fairies.

When everything seems to be going wrong with you, you must remember the airplane takes off against the wind

A gust of wind rattles the window, and I look out. Leaves are whooshing all over the place, flying past horizontally as if they have engines of their own.

I want to hear the wind in the trees. Feel the sun warm my back. I want to see birds fly in a sky with no boundaries.

The wind is made of haunting souls that moan and groan in whistles and whispers. This ghostly choir chills the breeze and orchestrates a rise of goose bumps on my skin.

Music burst through him, perfect notes he hear rarely. Fire and ice, wind and calm, sky and earth, water and rock all fused together. Joley seemed as wild and turbulent s the sea, yet beneath her fiery passion, at the very core of her, she was as forceful and strong and as constant as the deepest ocean currents. Ilya seemed as calm as a windless sea, yet beneath the surface smoldered a volcano of such explosive magnitude, his power could easily sweep everything from his path. Together they completed each other, his melody and hers merging together into a single, perfect harmony.

The wind is blowing. Don’t bend if you want to please him.

Who walketh upon the wings of the wind.

We need to stop using fossil fuels as soon as possible. Unfortunately, the two leading replacements of wind and solar have emerging health and environmental problems.

When the wind is against you, like a kite, have your chord of faith rooted and you would fly highest ever.

When grief impounds our thinking and eats our brains, it seeps through all the cracks of our daily living. Only the soothing wind of comforting words may counter the withering twilight and the frostiness of darkness. ("All the words he always wanted to tell her.")

There’s always books. And the wind through trees.

Sometimes it doesn't make sense- the short periods of time we get with the best moments and with people, or their outcomes from their choices.However, if we turn it over to the golden light that flies around us.The breathing wind of the evening promises that we will see the big picture in the hereafter with a new dawn tomorrow.Nothing is too small to be a mistake.

Dream Song:As my eyes Search the prairie, I feel the summer in the spring. Whenever I pause The noise Of the village.

First, the wind would rumble in the distance like an approaching river, then he would see grass bend, pressed by a great invisible hand. The dull rumble would rise in pitch to a swishing, lashing exultation, causing stalks to lie flat against the ground while the tougher branches of shrubs held themselves up and shrieked their defiance in the gusts. Then the first drops, cold and heavy, would plummet from the sky and burst on the ground.

Once lively peonies nowwind-weary, and ragged at the edges, hang their heavy crowns; rain on their backs,one final act, beforedetaching from the stemand falling down.

Constantly stopping to explain oneself may expand into a frustrating burden for the rare individual, so ceasing to do so is like finally dropping the weights and sprinting towards his goals. Those who insincerely misunderstand, who intentionally distort the motives of a pure-intentioned individual, then, no longer have the opportunity to block his path; instead, they are the ones left to stand on the sidelines shouting frustratedly in the wind of his trail.

You must take personal responsibility. You cannot change the circumstances, the seasons, or the wind, but you can change yourself. That is something you have charge of.

We can give happiness a chance: happiness is learnable. Life is a choice and happiness is a question of focusing, hearing and seeing the right things behind the appearances. It is a matter of finding out, differencing worthiness and irrelevance, connectedness and distantness, warmth and aloofness, brightness and dimness. Happiness is the lucky potential to steer friskily along the cliffs of the unknown avoiding the obstacles of narcissism and conceit. ( " Happiness blowing in the wind. " )

Fanatics are like debris following the course of the wind, they are swept around like sand, and convinced to believe in what they do not understand.

Yes, the wind came up--" Mrs. Sharpe began. She paused."And changed us all," Petra said softly.

I closed my eyes and turned my face into the cold wind. When I felt it swept along my skin there was no past. No future. Just now.

Looking back on my life, I sigh. The caprice of youth goes with the wind, I’ve no regrets.

I see you better in music, I hear you better in wind, I feel you more in a flooding moonlight, that understands nothing, but darkness and silence.

While the train flashed through never-ending miles of ripe wheat, by country towns and bright-flowered pastures and oak groves wilting in the sun, we sat in the observation car, where the woodwork was hot to the touch and red dust lay deep over everything. The dust and heat, the burning wind, reminded us of many things. We were talking about what it is like to spend one’s childhood in little towns like these, buried in wheat and corn, under stimulating extremes of climate: burning summers when the world lies green and billowy beneath a brilliant sky, when one is fairly stifled in vegetation, in the color and smell of strong weeds and heavy harvests; blustery winters with little snow, when the whole country is stripped bare and gray as sheet-iron. We agreed that no one who had not grown up in a little prairie town could know anything about it. It was a kind of freemasonry, we said.

I will walk by myself and cure myself in the sunshine and the wind.

The wind plays its own music.

.... just find your way, like a river settling into its bed, and the sigh of the wind over a lake, light but restful... content with the joy in the arc of an arm throwing a ball for a dog to fetch, the ease of the grassy slope stretching away, birds in the trees singing sweet high notes, flowers growing close in the ditch.

To a fireman, wind is a curse. To a sailor, wind is a blessing.

Intriguing isn't it? One day you are the king of your world. And the next day, you stand aside, watching it all burn. Ashes slipping out of your hand, you just stand and stare, your glassy gaze fixed on something no one else could see, no one else could know...People will talk as people do talk. And they will walk over the ashes. And the ashes will dance in front of you, reminding you every second of what was and what might have been. And you will almost give in.But my advice is, don’t give in. Because one day, you will decide to turn the corner. Put it all behind you. Just stand strong and still as the great wind comes and takes all the ashes away with with it, leaving fresh air behind. Fresh for you to make a new world, a better world.

sometimes i don't know, which momentwhich cool gust of wind will come,and enchant metousling my hairand my heart, stirring...that familiar ache of poetry, which drop will kissthe old wrench in my soulreminding me, all over againi miss you better in the rain.

The sunlight, penetrating the gaps in the tall trees, plays chess on the gravestones, shifting slowly and thoughtfully across the worn old stones. The wind, like a hundred violins, plays perpetually in the topmost branches of the deodars.

When you become a raindrop in your mind Thunder is the closest friend you may find Wind lashed trees, dark clouds, lightning or the dust Everything you will bear once you adjust

It was not a noisy wind but the kind that suggests something very big and thin fresh from the horror of Infinite Space.

If the foundation of your house is righteousness then your wealth will not be like a cardboard house that collapses under a gentle blow of wind

Faeries, come take me out of this dull world,For I would ride with you upon the wind,Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,And dance upon the mountains like a flame.

When your life feels like you're on a sailboat, with no wind to fill your sails, there are still choices. You can drop anchor and enjoy your surroundings. Start your motor, if you have one. Grab an oar and start paddling, or wait for the wind to fill your sails once again. There are always other choices while crossing the ocean of life…

When you pour out words from your heart to your lover, make sure they aren't on a paper vessel and lost to the wind.

It is in vain to try and kick the wind.

And like my comrades, I too have tasted the bittersweet assurance that I would be okay with myself. And like so many others out there, I have given that dream away to the wind and its power over the trees.

Wind is the sacred music of the leaves; wherever and whenever the wind blows, over there leaves start their holy dancing frantically!

It was March. The days of March creeping gustily on like something that man couldn't hinder and God wouldn't hurry.

I spur my horse past the ruined city;the ruined city, that wakes the traveler's thoughts:ancient battlements, high and low;old grave mounds, great and small.Where the shadow of a single tumbleweed tremblesand the voice of the great trees clings forever,I sigh over all these common bones --No roll of the immortals bears their names.

...strands of your hair and tendrils of the wind spin into nothingness the memories of that day...

You become a house where the wind blows straight through, because no one bothers the crack in the window or lock on the door, and you’re the house where people come and go as they please, because you’re simply too unimpressed to care. You let people in who you really shouldn’t let in, and you let them walk around for a while, use your bed and use your books, and await the day when they simply get bored and leave. You’re still not bothered, though you knew they shouldn’t have been let in in the first place, but still you just sit there, apathetic like a beggar in the desert.

For the first time in four billion years a living creature had contemplated himself and heard with a sudden, unaccountable loneliness, the whisper of the wind in the night reeds.

He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight for a few seconds. Hisbreaths tickle my ear, and I close my eyes, letting myself finally relax. Hesmells like wind and sweat and soap, like Tobias and like safety.

An ill wind that bloweth no man good - The blower of which blast is she.

...I recall that day on the beach - the sand so brilliant, the clouds so massive, and the wind punishing your hair...

A sailor chooses the wind that takes the ship from a safe port. Ah, yes, but once you're abroad, as you have seen, winds have a mind of their own. Be careful, Charlotte, careful of the wind you choose.

. . . a wind howling began, which seemed to form all over the country, as far as the imagination could grasp it through the gloom of the night.

I am floating, I thought, completely without anchor, at the mercy of the wind.

Tis the old wind in the old anger,But then it threshed another wood.