Best 2116 quotes in «wind quotes» category

After that hard winter, one could not get enough of the nimble air. Every morning I wakened with a fresh consciousness that winter was over. There were none of the signs of spring for which I used to watch in Virginia, no budding woods or blooming gardens. There was only—spring itself; the throb of it, the light restlessness, the vital essence of it everywhere: in the sky, in the swift clouds, in the pale sunshine, and in the warm, high wind—rising suddenly, sinking suddenly, impulsive and playful like a big puppy that pawed you and then lay down to be petted. If I had been tossed down blindfold on that red prairie, I should have known that it was spring.

Afterwards, I will have to tie the trees to bamboo poles so the wind will not determine their shape. A tree cannot be given form by the vagaries of the wind.

Air, I should explain, becomes wind when it is agitated.

A JEWELRY STORE NAMED INDIA If you hold this Dazzling emerald Up to the sky, It will shine a billion Beautiful miracles Painted from the tears Of the Most High. Plucked from the lush gardens Of a yellowish-green paradise, Look inside this hypnotic gem And a kaleidoscope of Titillating, Soul-raising Sights and colors Will tease and seduce Your eyes and mind. Tell me, sir. Have you ever heard A peacock sing? Hold your ear To this mystical stone And you will hear Sacred hymns flowing To the vibrations Of the perfumed Wind.

A Kite in the Wind - with Love , Truth and Honesty - weathered A Wilderness of Voices, Through the Darkness, With Love

A leaf has no power to resist when the wind blows, but when life’s storms rage, you do.

A moment of peace and silence, breathing in and out the frigid air, watching daylight seep into the forest, hearing the first chatter of distant crows, the wind sighing over the snow and through the fir and pine branches and the twittering of chickadees as they flitted in little tribes from tree to tree.

An apple only falls far from its tree when carried away by divine winds.

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.

An infinite, inscrutable blackness has annihilated sight! Where is our universe? All crumbled away from us; and we, adrift in chaos, may hearken to the gusts of homeless wind, that go sighing and murmuring about in quest of what was once a world!

A swirl of dust and dirt picked up from the shadows that fell over everything in this grungy corner of the world. The dancing movement was hypnotizing. The sand and grit had rested long enough to have drifted into obscurity. But fate had different plans, and this gust of wind had lifted them and turned their obscure and unknown existence into a chaotic tempest of action that could not be ignored.

Asleep she was a painting of a fire. Awake she was the fire itself

A stone resists the wind, no matter how small it is.

A strong wind was blowing and it felt really very cold and seemed so unfamiliar and bizarre. But the trees remembered me. They bowed gently in the breeze…and called me nearer, welcoming me.

A turmoil of winds rushed around him, spiraling up in to the air: he was thinking.

A tree will not wither and die because the wind blew away one leaf.

Autumn leaf waits for autumn wind to reach the unreachable places; wise mind waits for silence for the same reason!

Autumn colors remind us we are all one dancing in the wind.

A wind that howled like a drowning man.

Caress me sister wind and stop this hate.

Behind every successful flight, lies the will, full of thrust, against the wind; the will to win.

be the calm eye of the storm where nothing phases you, focus on your centre to remain balanced, let your life flow like a stream of wind

But he still lingered for a moment, as if waiting for the wind to take a hand and perhaps gust him down to his car.

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.

Caresses are a wind blowing from within. (Les caresses sont un vent - Qui souffle du dedans.)

Darkness moves like a pack of wild dogs. The wind moves like a wounded animal. The ground must be full of teeth by now.

Come, little leaves," said the Wind one day, "Come to the meadows with me and play. Put on your dresses of red and gold; For Summer is past, and the days grow cold.

Come, fly with me!" cried the goddess, as she sped ahead of them, her extremities flaming with a comet tail of sparks in the supernatural wind. Her bubbling voice again echoed, her laughter bounced in the crystalline void, and she flew onward, unto eternity.... "Stop!" cried Elasirr. "Come back with us to the true world, O Tilirreh!" At which the orange one laughed, throwing her head back, saying, "Oh, but don’t you know this is the one true world? It is but yours that is a pale specter, that is the dying place of dwindling truth?" "Then come back with us, lady," whispered Ranhé, "and restore the truth as it once was.

Dip your fingers n the spring stream or lift your face to the summer rains. Listen for me in the winter wind I'll come back for you.

Dechymic pwy yw. Creadt kyn dilyw. Creadur kadarn Heb gic heb ascwrn. Heb wytheu heb waet. Heb pen aheb traet. Ny bed hyn ny byd ieu. No get y dechreu. Ny daw oe odeu Yr ofyn nac agheu. Ny dioes eisseu Gan greaduryeu. Guess who it is. Created before the deluge. A creature strong, Without flesh, without bone, Without veins, without blood, Without head, and without feet. It will not be older, it will not be younger, Than it was in the beginning. There will not come from his design Fear or death. He has no wants From creatures.

Did you? Did you see the rain Falling down my dreams? Did you felt the pain Drying all my tears? I've just seen the night Washing the bad years... I've just found my sight Running from my fears... Did you hear the wind Blowing all the whispers? I've been always blind... I see now the answers...

Don’t be afraid of criticism; the tallest trees are always confronted by the strongest winds.

Do not underestimate the muteness of a tree. The rustling leaves of it can sing with the rival wind that many of us cannot do.

Earth, water, fire, and wind are states of matter.

Earth, water, fire, and wind. Where there is energy there is life.

Emmi, chị không phải là Mia. Tôi đã không đặt mong đợi vào Mia – và ngược lại. Mia và tôi, chúng tôi bắt đầu từ vạch xuất phát, như khi hai người làm quen nhau trong điều kiện bình thường. Ở chúng ta thì khác, Emmi: chúng ta xuất phát từ vạch đích, và chỉ còn một hướng để chạy: ngược lại. Chúng ta hướng đến sự tỉnh ngộ bạo liệt. Chúng ta không được sống những gì viết ra. Chúng ta không thể thay thế vô số hình ảnh mà chúng ta đã vẽ ra về nhau. Sẽ là một thất vọng khi chị không bằng cô Emmi mà tôi biết. Và chị sẽ không bằng được! Chị sẽ buồn chán khi tôi không bằng tay Leo mà chị biết. Và tôi sẽ không bằng tay ấy! Sau cuộc gặp mặt đầu tiên (và duy nhất) chúng ta sẽ tỉnh ngộ chia tay nhau, uể oải như sau một bữa ăn ngồn ngộn nhưng không ngon miệng, vậy mà chúng ta đã sốt ruột cả một năm để chờ nó, đã hầm nhừ hầm tử mấy tháng liền. Rồi sao? Hết. Chấm dứt. Nuốt sạch. Làm như chẳng có gì xảy ra chăng? Emmi, lúc đó ta vĩnh viễn có trước mắt hình ảnh mất thiêng, phát lộ, trần tục, thất vọng và tan vỡ của người kia. Chúng ta sẽ không biết nên viết gì cho nhau. Rồi một lúc nào đó về sau, có một lúc ta chạm trán nhau trong tiệm cà phê hay dưới tàu điện ngầm. Chúng ta sẽ cố không nhận ra nhau hay lờ nhau đi, sẽ vội vã quay mặt qua hướng khác. Chúng ta sẽ ngượng ngùng nhận ra “chúng ta” đã trở thành cái gì và còn sót lại cái gì. Chẳng gì cả. Hai con người lạ lẫm, với một quá khứ ảo chung nhau, cái quá khứ đã lừa dối họ một cách bỉ ổi bao tháng ngày.

Era come una mano di colore data sul venticello, sui muri gialletti della borgata, sui prati, sui carretti, sugli autobus coi grappoli agli sportelli. Una mano di colore ch'era tutta l'allegria e la miseria delle notti dell'estate del presente e del passato.

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.

Even a leaf in the wind settles sometimes.

Everybody has a little bit of the sun and moon in them. Everybody has a little bit of man, woman, and animal in them. Darks and lights in them. Everyone is part of a connected cosmic system. Part earth and sea, wind and fire, with some salt and dust swimming in them. We have a universe within ourselves that mimics the universe outside. None of us are just black or white, or never wrong and always right. No one. No one exists without polarities. Everybody has good and bad forces working with them, against them, and within them. PART SUN AND MOON by Suzy Kassem

Fly high... Where the only chill that cuts through you is the wind. Where your heart pounds from exhilaration not disappointment and after ascending through cloudy wisps, brushing your wings, there is only the clear blue horizon beckoning you forth....

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.

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.

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

Hair tangled with the wind Sun kissed face Lover of the forest the sea the sky and anything wild and free She’s a gypsy goddess.

Here you are. Would you like some pickles?” “Pickles gives me the wind something awful.” “In that case—” “Oh, I wasn’t saying no,” Mistress Weatherwax said, taking two large pickled cucumbers.

Her laughter sounded like April showers, like whispered secrets, like glass wind-chimes.

His mind lingered for a time in the hinterlands of sleep, words drifting over the border as though on a warm wind, unfastened from their meanings.

Great winds only challenge great trees.

How many times did the sun shine, how many times did the wind howl over the desolate tundras, over the bleak immensity of the Siberian taigas, over the brown deserts where the Earth’s salt shines, over the high peaks capped with silver, over the shivering jungles, over the undulating forests of the tropics! Day after day, through infinite time, the scenery has changed in imperceptible features. Let us smile at the illusion of eternity that appears in these things, and while so many temporary aspects fade away, let us listen to the ancient hymn, the spectacular song of the seas, that has saluted so many chains rising to the light.