Best 1847 quotes in «rain quotes» category

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    Cry and let your tears flow for a brighter tomorrow... Rain falls because the clouds can no longer take its heaviness... Just like our Tears... it falls because the heart can no longer take the pain...

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    Crying in the rain. No one sees your tears and your pain gets washed away.

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    Cuddle up. Rain always stops. It always stops. It always does. -The Brown Cape

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    Cursed are those, whose soul bleeds every time they walk in the rain.

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    Dark clouds not only bring thunderstorm, They also bring rain.

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    Did Bach ever eat pancakes at midnight?

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    Does it get any better than sleeping next to you on a cold rainy night? Watching myself in your eyes and the way I shine in there. Hearing the drizzle and getting weaker every time the breeze touches our bare skin. Every time you smile, these little butterflies with their wings on fire, flies inside my heart and I constantly fail to cage these feelings in mere words. All I need at that moment is you inside my arms. And to stay a prisoner inside your eyes, for an eternity.

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    Do it again and again. Consistency makes the rain drops to create holes in the rock. Whatever is difficult can be done easily with regular attendance, attention and action.

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    Does God think that, because it is raining, I am not going to destroy the world? - Lope de Aguirre after going mad in the Amazon

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    Don’t try to present your art by making other people read or hear or see or touch it; make them feel it. Wear your art like your heart on your sleeve and keep it alive by making people feel a little better. Feel a little lighter. Create art in order for yourself to become yourself and let your very existence be your song, your poem, your story. Let your very identity be your book. Let the way people say your name sound like the sweetest melody.

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    Don’t predict the condition of the entire day by the state of the morning. You don’t judge a book by its cover. A cloudy morning is no guarantee for a rainy day!

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    Draw me October on the window with rain.

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    Do you see that patch of blue in the sky, fighting to be seen through the clouds?" "Yes." She nodded, but her brows were scrunched in obvious confusion as to what his point would be. "That was my life when I met you. After Mellie died, my life was a constant rainy day. I couldn't imagine the sun ever shining again. Then I met you, and the dark clouds started to drift away. I could see blue skies again and they were pushing out the clouds. As I got to know you, there were more blue skies and sunshine in my life.

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    Do we not each dream of dreams? Do we not dance on the notes of lost memories? Then are we not each dreamers of tomorrow and yesterday, since dreams play when time is askew? Are we not all adrift in the constant sea of trial and when all is done, do we not all yearn for ships to carry us home?

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    Drop by drop I will fall On your body and soul And find a home in you!

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    Es sind tausend Tropfen in einer Welt nur für uns gemacht Tausend Tropfen wenn der Himmel weint und man dennoch lacht

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    During this rain, someone’s willing to stand next to me to bear and suffer the pain with me. -Ruo Xi

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    ENDURANCE I don't know you, But I love you, Just as God loves me and you. The sun and the moon Are opposing forces, But they still greet each other, Peacefully, As one awakens in the morning, Just as the other goes to sleep. Life has pounded me down And thrashed me around, Time and time again, But I always get right back up, Because I still love life - Just as the earth still loves The rain.

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    During the night a fine, delicate summer rain had washed the plains, leaving the morning sky crisp and clean. The sun shone warm—soon to bake the earth dry. It cast a purple haze across the plain—like a great, dark topaz. In the trees the birds sang, while the squirrels jumped from branch to branch in seeming good will, belying the expected tension of the coming days.

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    for all I can really do is stand here in September’s rain savoring… soaking it all in slipping.. and simply holding on to poetry for dear life.

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    Every drop of rain does waters the earth.

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    Every moment those cold fingers of you touches my skin in these rainy nights, they lit fire to my soul a bit at a time. These moments make me crave to be destroyed, even more. In the end, when my whole soul is engulfed in the fire that you have started, I want to pull you into my arms and destroy you too, in every breathtaking way that exists.

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    Every person I ever knew or had come across always spoke about falling in love with the rain. They dreamt of dancing in it like there is no tomorrow but I never heard someone speaking about falling in love with a wildfire. No, it is not for the weaker ones. The moment you fall in love with the wildfire, it starts burning everything that you have ever built or grown all these years around you. It changes the way you had always imagined and looked at how the love would be, making you end up homeless. It makes you a weakness intertwined with strength, a love intertwined with hatred. It makes you a puzzle that you yourself could never solve.

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    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.

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    For all the way he loved her. Every song had her memory, every rain had her smell, and every girl had her face.

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    For me, you are fresh water that falls from trees when it has stopped raining. For me, you are cinnamon that lingers on the tongue and gives bitter words sweetening. For me, you are the scent of violins and vision of valleys smiling. And still, for me, your loveliness never ends. It traverses the world and finds its way back to me. Only me.

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    Every time I am in the dark and a bit of light falls on me, I see a bit of you in my shadows. There is always a bit of you in every song I hear, in every thought I conceive, in every rain that I drench in, in every star that I stare at in the sky every night and in every breeze that touches me.

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    Falling asleep while the rain is clashing down on the window is nature’s best lullaby.

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    Fill the world with acid rain clouds and you will be in a new era of evolution, due to the changed electromagnetic frequencies emissions and light emissions from the lightning clouds. A new era of global environmental radiation!

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    For the sun to shine, you gotta have some rain. You need the damn rain.

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    For the rest of my life, Zanzibar will be the Swahili word for rain. The rain would drizzle, spit, mist, downpour, shower, torrent, gust, deluge and blast. At one point it hit the ground so hard it created a haze as it bounced back up two feet and fell a second time.

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    God is a cloud from which rain fell.

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    German is a much more precise language than English. Americans throw the word love around for everything: I love my wife! I love all my friends! I love rock music! I love the rain! I love comic books! I love peanut butter! The word you use to describe your feelings for your wife should not be the same word you use to describe your feelings for peanut butter. In German, there are a dozen different words that describe varying degrees of liking something a lot. Germans almost never use the word love, unless they mean a deep romantic love. I have never told my parents I love them, because it would sound melodramatic, inappropriate, and almost incestuous. In German, you tell your mother that you hold her very dear, not that you are in love with her.

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    God gave the seed, but he wants the fruits back. Pick the seeds up. Plant the best ones. He promised the rain. It will be a bumper harvest!

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    God is willing to help you with the rain if only you can sow your crops.

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    Got caught in the rain, I see," - Isabelle Lightwood

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    Gray. The overcast skies had the colour of deadened stones, and seemed closer than usually, as though they were phlegmatically observing my every movement with their apathetic emptily blue-less eyes; each tiny drop of hazy rain drifting around resembled transparent molten steel, the pavement looked like it was about to burst into disconsolate tears, even the air itself was gray, so ultimate and ubiquitous that colour was everywhere around me. Gray...

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    Half asleep and half awake, I became lost in a deep span of my version of a perfect world. A place I wanted so desperately to reach, but would never find except from within the catacombs of my mind. A place where the sun rose in the west and set in the east, where the mountains bowed to the wind like trees, and the rain sprinkled up from the ground below and onto the clouds above. A place where no one hurt or lost, or felt any tinge of desperation. A place where heartbeats were the only words needed, and music floated on the wind like dust. A place where no place was home. Where a single person could be the only sustenance needed to survive. A place where there were no yesterdays or todays, only tomorrows. A place for me to find solace, an escape from the real world I was forced to live in.

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    Halfway home, the sky goes from dark gray to almost black and a loud thunder snap accompanies the first few raindrops that fall. Heavy, warm, big drops, they drench me in seconds, like an overturned bucket from the sky dumping just on my head. I reach my hands up and out, as if that can stop my getting wetter, and open my mouth, trying to swallow the downpour, till it finally hits me how funny it is, my trying to stop the rain. This is so funny to me, I laugh and laugh, as loud and free as I want. Instead of hurrying to higher ground, I jump lower, down off the curb, splashing through the puddles, playing and laughing all the way home. In all my life till now, rain has meant staying inside and not being able to go out to play. But now for the first time I realize that rain doesn't have to be bad. And what's more, I understand, sadness doesn't have to be bad, either. Come to think of it, I figure you need sadness, just as you need the rain. Thoughts and ideas pour through my awareness. It feels to me that happiness is almost scary, like how I imagine being drunk might feel - real silly and not caring what anybody else says. Plus, that happy feeling always leaves so fast, and you know it's going to go before it even does. Sadness lasts longer, making it more familiar, and more comfortable. But maybe, I wonder, there's a way to find some happiness in the sadness. After all, it's like the rain, something you can't avoid. And so, it seems to me, if you're caught in it, you might as well try to make the best of it. Getting caught in the warm, wet deluge that particular day in that terrible summer full of wars and fires that made no sense was a wonderful thing to have happen. It taught me to understand rain, not to dread it. There were going to be days, I knew, when it would pour without warning, days when I'd find myself without an umbrella. But my understanding would act as my all-purpose slicker and rubber boots. It was preparing me for stormy weather, arming me with the knowledge that no matter how hard it seemed, it couldn't rain forever. At some point, I knew, it would come to an end.

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    He listened like a cactus drinks the rain.

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    Heavy rains and a good book. A perfect extravagance.

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    He fell on his knees on that barren ground, Staring at the sky. And the sky opened up for him by raining. With the rain, every drop of his tear was washed down filling the cracks beneath. nobody got to see his pain and agony. And yet again he remained a mystery that was never solved.

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    He listened the way a cactus drinks rain—every word a precious drop in a world frugal with wonder.

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    Here is a good message from the ocean: You will be an ocean too if you let every river, every rain, every flood and every stream flow to you freely!

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    Here are few words to the unknown person who hurted me in a way nobody else did. This has been very impacting, the words still bang my head like marijuana. Even though I didn't knew much about you, I had no idea of the vulgarity of your mind which was so flithy for me but beautifuly coated with saccharine tales and rains with utmost fake sympathy. I sigh almost in tears for the words I never ever imagined to hear from anybody, but you broke that thought away henceforth believing that Satan did existed in the harmony of Angels. We could have been such good friends talking secretly about you to my besty that 'Maris is so warmest being'. You didn't had any idea how much I respected you and your struggles. I wonder how could you do this to a stranger like me who had been happily good to your gestures ever since I Mailed you. That mail just said to take care of my favourite thing and you took a revenge of my kindness. I sigh my pity on you that I cared for you beyond I thought I would do. But my dear, I still have care for you and never wish to accept your apology because you were in anger and wrath does Mahabharata. I just want to tell you that everything you did,hurted me and the challenges are really unbearable, the consequence is worst, you making me alone in such darkness that I wish to sleep in weepy rain and wake up in never.

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    Her heart felt too full, a dry creek bed ill-prepared for such rain.

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    Her lips trembled, and so did his. It was never known which lips were the first to move towards the other lips; but they kissed tremblingly, and then they moved apart. The rain was dashing against the window-panes as if an angry spirit were within it, and behind it was the great swoop of the wind; it was one of those moments in which both the busy and the idle pause with a certain awe.

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    He sat beside the window in the dark, with his eyes closed. Hearing to the sound of the rain. The whisky in his glass burnt his throat, while the smoke of his cigarette filled his lungs and the fire inside his heart consumed his soul slowly.

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    I could feel the tears streaming down my face—in some kind of frenzied competition with the rain. At first, I tried to brush the tears away, but I finally let them take their course, unabated.

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    His sadness was almost palpable, like moisture in the air before it rains. Although this was Manchester, it was probably about to rain anyway.

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