Best 89 quotes in «breeze quotes» category

I can feel a cool breeze.

I don’t guess you can outrun an explosion, right?” Sam asked doubtfully. Jack rolled his eyes and sighed his condescending geek sigh. “Seriously? Brianna runs in miles per hour. Explosions happen in feet per second. Don’t believe what you see in movies.” “Yeah, Sam,” Dekka said. “In the old days I always had Astrid around to humiliate me when I asked a stupid question,” Sam said. “It’s good to have Jack to take over that job.” He’d said it lightheartedly, but the mention of Astrid left an awkward hole in the conversation. Brianna said, “I can’t outrun an explosion, but I’ll tie the string around the wire.” She zipped over to the wire and zipped back holding the loose end. “Who gets to yank the string?” “She who ties the string pulls it,” Sam said. “But first—” BOOOOM! The containers, the sand, pieces of driftwood, bushes on the bluff all erupted in a fireball. Sam felt a blast of heat on his face. His ears rang. His eyes scrunched on sand. Debris seemed to take a long time to fall back down to earth. In the eventual silence Sam said, “I was going to say first we should all lie flat so we didn’t get blown up. But I guess that was good, too, Breeze.

... If the dead can come back to this earth and move unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night—amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours—always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or if the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

I gather the last remnants of the evening’s breeze, so cool and lazy within my arms, feeling it curl up like a small and innocent kitten.

It is not at all polite to point out a crusty old pessimist's dark inner secret.

I have a message for your daughter,” said Cale. “I am bound to her with cables that not even God can break. One day, if there is a soft breeze on her cheek, it may be my breath; one night, if the cool wind plays with her hair, it may be my shadow passing by.” And with this terrible threat he faced forward and the procession started once more. In less than a minute they were gone. In her shady room Arbell Swan-Neck stood white and cold as alabaster.

I listen to the sound of India's voices for the last time . Laughter ripples like water . A prayer is a single note held long . There is so much life here . And too much death.I feel a soft brezze caress my face and I look up. An orange ribbon is floating through the air . In India , it's easy to see the wind .

I love letting my soul soar on a summer breeze, or getting entranced by the rhythm of the sea. It carries you off on its currents until you’re completely lost and then drops you back on the shores of reality with salt on your cheeks and grains of dreams running through your fingers like sand. It’s almost an occasional necessity – I guess because when you get completely, fantastically, dizzyingly lost you’re temporarily suspended between what has been and what could be. In those first moments when you come back up for air, or when you float back down to the ground, you’re living in the land of possibility, where you understand that reality can stretch just as far as you’re willing to dream.

I may have stumbled and stammered at your unexpected push, but the breeze anchored me and I learnt the art of survival

In the fall of leaves, In the hustle of breeze, In the curve of streams, I foresee, Nature keeps more concealed, Than it lets us peep!

May you always have open breezy spaces in your mind.

It’s time,” Jack said. “Breeze? Count the kids,” Sam said. Brianna was back in twenty seconds. “Eighty-two, boss.” “About a third,” Jack observed. “A third of what’s left.” “Wait. Make that eighty-eight,” Brianna said. “And a dog.” Lana, looking deeply irritated—a fairly usual expression for her—and Sanjit, looking happy—a fairly usual expression for him—and Sanjit’s siblings were trotting along to catch up. “I don’t know if we’re staying up there or not,” Lana said without preamble. “I want to check it out. And my room smells like crap.” Just before the time was up, Sam heard a stir. Kids were making a lane for someone, murmuring. His heart leaped. “Hey, Sam.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Diana?” “Not expecting me, huh?” She made a wry face. “Where’s blondie? I didn’t see her at the big pep rally.” “Are you coming with us?” Brianna demanded, obviously not happy about it. “Is Caine okay with this?” Sam asked Diana. “It’s your choice, but I need to know if he’s going to come after us to take you back.” “Caine has what he wants,” Diana said. “Maybe I should call Toto over,” Sam said. The truth teller was having a conversation with Spidey. “I could ask you whether you’re coming along to spy for Caine, and see what Toto has to say.” Diana sighed. “Sam, I have bigger problems than Caine. And so do you, I guess. Because the FAYZ is going to do something it’s never done before: grow by one.” “What’s that mean?” “You are going to be an uncle.” Sam stared blankly. Brianna said a very rude word. And even Dekka looked up. “You’re having a baby?” Dekka asked. “Let’s hope so,” Diana said bleakly. “Let’s hope that’s all it is.

Maybe life is all about twirling under one of those midnight skies, cutting a swathe through the breeze and gently closing your eyes.

I want you to crave the crisp ocean breeze as much as I do. I want your soul to be as rain-swept as mine.

Love is wild; its whole beauty is in its wildness. It comes like a breeze with great fragrance, fills your heart, and suddenly where there was a desert there is a garden full of flowers.

She could not have asked for a more perfect day. The sun was shining, the humidity was low. There was a slight breeze. The water was a silvery blue. It was a bright, beautiful, early, autumn day. Perfect.

My everlasting Summer fills heart with laughter like a blooming flower... Her diverse sounds is nature's symphony, sprinkle delight, with comfort of ocean breeze which needs no attest.. The unique every moment of soul's revival and its sun to shine...

Nobody cared for her until the time she touched everyone like a breeze, but the day she turned into a storm and swept everything on her way out, the world stood still. She was a nightmare none had ever across.

Palm trees were fanned by a warm, light breeze, and they rolled down their windows to smell the sea.

Sam. Brianna is dead.” He just stared at her. Then, in a soft, almost childlike voice, he said, “Breeze?” “She stopped Gaia. It looked like Brianna almost killed her. The second time she . . . But this time . . .” There were tears in Sam’s eyes. “My God. How is Dekka?” “Like you’d expect. Destroyed. Roger’s dead, too, so Edilio . . . It’s been really bad, Sam. Really bad. It’s like we’re in a war.” “We are.

She awaits the rain like a writer embraces metaphors, A drizzle isn't for the child who dances in the storm. Of rain that washes away the petrichor it brings, A downpour of a hail of bullets, and she calls it spring.

She had schooled herself to hope for little other return than the waywardness of an April breeze; which spends its time in airy sport, and has its gusts of inexplicable passion and is petulant in its best of moods, and chills oftener than caresses you, when you take it to your bosom; in requital of which misdemeanours, it will sometimes, of its own vague purpose, kiss your cheek with a kind of doubtful tenderness, and play gently with your hair, and then begone about its other idle business, leaving a dreamy pleasure at your heart.

She came into my life like the Mistral breeze. She showered me with love and care. She splashed me with smiles and laughs. And slowly and silently, she healed me of my depression.

Sometimes the tender breeze can help us feel the presence of someone by bringing us their fragrance.

sometimes i don't know, which moment which cool gust of wind will come, and enchant me tousling my hair and my heart, stirring...that familiar ache of poetry, which drop will kiss the old wrench in my soul reminding me, all over again i miss you better in the rain.

Sometimes in the evening on Summer days, Even when there’s not a breeze at all, it seems Like there’s a light breeze blowing for a minute But the trees are unmoving In every leaf of their leaves And our feelings have had an illusion, An illusion of what would please them...

Sorry, folks, but the maximum occupancy is seventy-five,” Albert said. Then he spotted Jack. “Jack, how’s it going?” “What? Oh, fine.” Jack was confused as to how to proceed. He didn’t want to wait in line if Brianna wasn’t even inside. “You look like a man with a question,” Albert prompted. “Well, I’m kind of looking for Brianna. We had this…it’s a…tech thing. You wouldn’t understand.” “Breeze is already inside.” One of the kids in the line said, “Of course she is, she’s a freak. They always get in.” A second kid nodded. “Yeah, the freaks don’t wait in lines. Bet she didn’t have to pay, either.” Albert said, “Hey, she got here a little before you guys did and she waited. And she paid.” Then to Jack. “Go ahead in.” “See?” the first kid crowed. “He’s one, too.” “Dude, he set up my sound system,” Albert said. “What have you done for me other than stand here and bust on me?

The tender breeze felt my loneliness. It brought me your fragrance.

The breeze across the desert as the light died was so sweet she could almost drink it.

The door exploded inward and a tangle of bug legs appeared. “I can hold them, but I can’t kill them all,” Caine shouted. “Yeah. They’re hard to kill. You got a plan?” Caine bit savagely at his thumb, worrying the cuticle. They were surrounded. The very walls were being battered. The windows were all smashed. They couldn’t fit through the door but they would soon make it wide enough. They stood, Caine and Brianna, in the kitchen, the center of the house, as far as possible from the windows, but now the bugs had their mandibles shoved in through the doors and windows, questing, slicing the air, their ropelike tongues lashing madly. The entire house was like a drum pounded by dozens of drumsticks. “You know, I’m kind of disappointed,” Brianna said. “Situation like this? Sam would come up with a plan.

The moment you cross the border of your country to another, nature will blow you the breeze of revolution, no matter how long you may spend abroad, you will never return back home the same again, it is either greater or worse.

We are adrift, and the thinnest breeze may blow us where it will.

You live through each memory you have hidden inside me. Through the places, we had been to and through the songs, which only we have sung and heard. Every night, I lie down and look at the sky gazing the universe in its eye. Watching the breeze and the stars carry the pieces of us and deliver it to the infinity and every time I wonder if you are doing the same somewhere.

When she came back down, Sam and Astrid had arrived. Sam hugged Dekka, and the two of them stayed that way for a long time, saying nothing. Both had loved Brianna. To Edilio, Sam said, “I’m so sorry, man. I wish I’d . . . You know what I wish.” Edilio fought back a fresh rush of tears, nodded, waited until he was sure he could speak, and said, “I’m glad you’re back, boss.

Who are you?’ Gaia gasped. The girl froze for a moment. Looked at her. Smiled and said, ‘Who am I? I’m the Breeze, bitch!

Wind and breeze are separated today Crimson twilight denies to fade away Grass blades turn brown to match the soil We pretend to smile at every turmoil

A breeze discovered my open book And began to flutter the leaves to look

You were born unique. Do not let the world make you conform to the limitations present in the prevailing winds of thought. Be the unique breeze with no limits or destination and keep on flowing!

Close a door, and you'd still feel a breeze through the window.

Acorns are planted silently by some unnoticed breeze.

And she moves among the sparrows. And she floats upon the breeze. She moves among the flowers. She moves something deep inside of me

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

From the evening breeze to this hand on my shoulder, everything has its truth.

I am life.  I have no name.  I am as the fresh breeze of the mountains.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and filled myself up with the breeze from the valley. Then I let it out slow so it could get back to its travels, with a little bit of me added to it.

I battered the cordons around me And cradled my wings on the breeze, Then soared to the uttermost reaches With rapture, with power, with ease!

I can remain on shore, paralyzed with fear, or I can raise my sails and dip and soar in the breeze.

I'm now as free as the breeze - with roughly the same income.

I hear music Mighty fine music, The murmur of a morning breeze up there The rattle of the milkman on the stair Sure that's music.

Leave your yawns behind you and feel the tiny new breeze of life lighting up inside of you.