Best 1847 quotes in «rain quotes» category

Be the Rain. I am the rain. The mountain may spit fire at the sky. . . Still the rain will fall. The mountain may quake at the world. . . Still the rain will fall. The mountain will be silent and brooding. . . Still the rain will fall. The mountain will tumble down upon the earth. . . Still the rain will fall. The mountain will be reduced to sandy shore. . . Still the rain will fall. Be the rain. by D. Denise Dianaty © 11 January 2014

But here, the rain was just another part of the landscape. Like it was the thing that lived here and we were merely visitors.

Brushing the clouds away from my eyes, I see clarity in the raindrop and beauty in the first ray of morning sun... Life is strange and wondrous...

By the sandy water I breathe in the odor of the sea, From there the wind comes and blows over the world, By the sandy water I breathe in the odor of the sea, From there the clouds come and rain falls over the world.

Call me crazy, but there is something terribly wrong with this city.

Clear skies do not promise rain.

But that's the thing, how you feel about the place that's home. About its sky, its air, its smell, the color of the light, the way the rain falls (or doesn't), whether it hot or cold.

Breathe deep... The rain falls but a moment, and in a moment, gives life to another day.

Complains are like the clouds that give no rain no matter how thick they gather.

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...

Clouds shed the agony of the sky and rain concludes it by covering us in filth. What do you think about the puddles of mud and traffic jams? I so hate rain.

Colors shone with exceptional clarity in the rain. The ground was a deep black, the pine branches a brilliant green, the people wrapped in yellow looking like special spirits that were allowed to wander over the earth on rainy mornings only.

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

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

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

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

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

Did Bach ever eat pancakes at midnight?

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!

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.

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.

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.

Draw me October on the window with rain.

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.

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

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?

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

Every drop of rain does waters the earth.

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.

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!

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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!

God is a cloud from which rain fell.

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.

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

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

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...

Heavy rains and a good book. A perfect extravagance.

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.