Best 441 of Weather quotes - MyQuotes
Never, and by this I mean never, criticise the English weather. Especially if you’re an alien. For an English woman, it’s as though you are scolding her first born child. For an Englishman, it’s as if you are criticising the size of his penis. Or even worse: his football team.
I'm fine," I told him tersely. "Of course you are. You're one of the strongest people I know." It took me a second to process that, because he'd said it so casually. Like he was talking about the weather or what time it was. Only Pritkin didn't say things like that. His idea of a compliment was a nod and to tell me to do whatever it was I'd just done over again. Like that was usually possible. But that had sounded suspiciously like a compliment to me.
It is spectacular. From about five minutes in, when we knew for sure that we were going to have the weather to go, the smile on my face just got bigger and bigger, and I was just beaming through the whole launch. I mean, it is just an amazing ride.
Love is like the weather in Nevada--you don't know what the freak happens!
Off Cape Horn there are but two kinds of weather, neither one of them a pleasant kind.
I've lived in a good climate, and it bores the hell out of me. I like weather rather than climate.
It was cold autumn weather, but in spite of the cold they wandered up and down the roads of the Park for nearly three hours. They agreed to break off their intercourse; every bond, he said, is a bond to sorrow.
The hardest part about moving from nice California weather was the freezing cold New York.
Katherine Anne Porter
Don't you love being alive?" asked Miranda. "Don't you love weather and the colors at different times of the day, and all the sounds and noises like children screaming in the next lot, and automobile horns and little bands playing in the street and the smell of food cooking?" "I love to swim, too." said Adam. "So do I," said Miranda, "we never did swim together.
The winter seemed reluctant to let go its bite. It hung on cold and wet and windy long after its time. And people repeated, "It's those damned big guns they're shooting off in France-- spoiling the weather in the whole world.
Just move to the Internet, its great here. We get to live inside where the weather is always awesome.
You never see a pretty, unattached girl on a racecourse. But you often see positive gangs of rather unpretty ones. They are the owners or the owners' wives and they wear mink in all weathers and far too much make-up. For some odd reason, I can never work out why they always seem to be married to haulage contractors in the North, builders in the South and farmers in the West.
Ari smiled. The sun was shining, the weather was great, he was eating ice cream, and all his dreams were about to come true.
Sometimes I think he’s the kind of friend that grownups call a ‘fair-weather friend.’ That means when everything’s going smoothly, he’s the best friend a guy could want. But as soon as something goes wrong…(he) sort of turns on you.
Weather is cyclical. It’s falling and then rising. It’s movement. Swaying, drifting, and swirling. It’s power. Gravity, evaporation, and erosion. It’s a potpourri of human emotion. Happiness, sadness, elation, and disappointment.
Rin slept inside the oak’s thought. Its own memories of weather and growth continued to hum, and like a pond, its stillness reflected back herself.
People ask: Why should I care about the ocean? Because the ocean is the cornerstone of earth's life support system, it shapes climate and weather. It holds most of life on earth. 97% of earth's water is there. It's the blue heart of the planet - we should take care of our heart. It's what makes life possible for us. We still have a really good chance to make things better than they are. They won't get better unless we take the action and inspire others to do the same thing. No one is without power. Everybody has the capacity to do something.
There’s a passage in John Steinbeck’s “East of Eden” that does a pretty good job describing California’s rainfall patterns: The water came in a 30-year cycle. There would be five to six wet and wonderful years when there might be 19 to 25 inches of rain, and the land would shout with grass. Then would come six or seven pretty good years of 12 to 16 inches of rain. And then the dry years would come ...
Henry Ward Beecher
Interest works night and day in fair weather and in foul. It gnaws at a man's substance with invisible teeth.
Even the southeast side of Grand Rapids must bow to the beauty of a Michigan fall.
Too often man handles life as he does the bad weather. He whiles away the time as he waits for it to stop.
I have always felt that the action most worth watching is not at the center of things but where edges meet. I like shorelines, weather fronts, international borders. There are interesting frictions and incongruities in these places, and often, if you stand at the point of tangency, you can see both sides better than if you were in the middle of either one.
The next morning was grey and much more typical of early autumn. All I wanted to do was cocoon myself in layers of sweaters and stay in my room.
The rain thundered down so heavily that Pritam could imagine that space itself was made of water and was pouring through rents in the sky's tired fabric.
Whether we are aware of it or not, every act of trust carries with it a shiver of fear. A favorable situation can become dangerous. Deep down we know that life is insecure and precarious. However, if we do trust, the shiver carries with it a philosophical optimism: Life, with all its traps and horrors, is good The bet is implicit in trust itself. If we could be sure of everyone and everything, trust would have no value - like money, if it were suddenly limitless, or sunshine, if there were always fine weather, or life, if we were to live forever
In London, the weather would affect me negatively. I react strongly to light. If it is cloudy and raining, there are clouds and rain in my soul.
and when his lips touched mine for the very first time . . . i knew he is the one
There was an ocean above us, held in by a thin sac that might rupture and let down a flood at any second.
End spør du om Himmel og Veirligheds Art, Da viid, at de os, een fortræden Fræmfart Med vreed Elementer tilføyer; U-lidelig Frysen og stormende Slud, At hvo som vil stænge sig Vinteren ud, Hand see sig om forede Trøyer.
Chicago has only two seasons: winter and construction.
Installing massive amounts of wireless devices into every city may eventually be proven to be a global weather modification system.
There, on the far side of of the Atlantic, would be Maine, but despite the shared ocean, her island and this one were worlds apart. Where Inishmaan was gray and brown, its fragile man-made soil supporting only the hardiest of low-growing plants, the fertile Quinnipeague invited tall pines in droves, not to mention vegetables, flowers, and improbable, irrepressible herbs. Lifting her head, eyes closed now, she breathed in the damp Irish air and the bit of wood smoke that drifted on the cold ocean wind. Quinnipeague smelled of wood smoke, too, since early mornings there could be chilly, even in summer. But the wood smoke would clear by noon, giving way to the smell of lavender, balsam, and grass. If the winds were from the west, there would be fry smells from the Chowder House; if from the south, the earthiness of the clam flats; if from the northeast, the purity of sweet salt air.
Everything was eternally dreary, dismal, damned. Even the weather was insolent and bitchy.
I feel like there's a lot of drama in weather. It's something that's done really often in live action, so I figure, why not translate that to animation?
I don't care what the weather is, I will always wear my coats. I am always freezing, so it works out perfectly for me!
Unlike in the movies, the weather seemed indifferent to his personal predicament and refused dramatic contribution. It was a rather pleasant day, in fact.
The most important thing that most people get from the news is the prediction of the following day’s weather, which most people are usually able to predict correctly by themselves.
You have a long history," he said, when Lanya indicated her story was finished. "Ah, Harrier, were I to tell you a long story, we should be here for a sennight, perhaps more. Long stories are best saved for deep winter, when the days are short and time grows heavy." Lanya glanced at the sky.
Trying to keep up with health advice can feel like surfing the Net for weather forecasts: what you find is always changing, often contradictory and rarely encouraging.
We were good boys, good Presbyterian boys, and loyal and all that; anyway, we were good Presbyterian boys when the weather was doubtful; when it was fair, we did wander a little from the fold.
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.
On the eve of the election last month my wife Judith and I were driving home late in the afternoon and turned on the radio for the traffic and weather. What we instantly got was a freak show of political pornography: lies, distortions, and half-truths - half-truths being perhaps the blackest of all lies. They paraded before us as informed opinion.
Henry David Thoreau
Waves of a serene life pass over us from time to time, like flakes of sunlight over the fields in cloudy weather.
Run your own race at an even pace. Consider the course, the temperature, the weather, and most importantly, your current level of fitness.
...a magical CO2 knob for controlling weather and climate simply does not exist!
Rain, rain, go away, come back when I am marathoning anime.
I feel bad about that, that I worship celebrities... but their moods create weather.
It was as if the curtains came down on all this, if not entirely obliterated it, when the monsoon rose up in the thunderous clouds from the parched valley below to engulf the hills, invade them with the opaque mist in which a pine tree or a mountain top appeared only intermittently, and then unleashed a downpour that brought Ravi's rambling to a halt and confined him to the house for days at a time, deafened by the rain drumming on the rooftop and cascading down the gutters and through the spouts to rush downhill in torrents.
I suddenly realized I was in California. Warm, palmy air - air you can kiss - and palms.
It was anyway all a long time ago; the world, we know now, is as it is and not different; if there was ever a time when there were passages, doors, the borders open and many crossing, that time is not now. The world is older than it was. Even the weather isn’t as we remember it clearly once being; never lately does there come a summer day such as we remember, never clouds as white as that, never grass as odorous or shade as deep and full of promise as we remember they can be, as once upon a time they were.