Best 2116 quotes in «wind quotes» category

Outside the closed windshield, birds hovered mid-air, held aloft by the relentless breeze. Lethbridge was a prairie city, dusty and slow-moving, but it had one constant that separated it from other places on the flatland: Wind. Bracing for it, Lou swung the door open and caught the handle before the gusts could tear it from her hand. Black hair whipped around her face. Scents rose and swirled past, carried by the breeze. Lou breathed in sunbaked soil and sparse golden grasses, motor oil and fast food.

Outside, a brisk wind churned the wind chimes on the porch into a forbidding cacophony of discontent.

Pain is only wind, bend as the palm and let it blow over you.

Samuel finally understood the sound of the wind after all these years: The winds were a chorus of the prairie’s ever-present heartaches.

- Qu'y-a-t-il au sommet de la montagne ? - Le ciel. - Que dit le loup quand il hurle ? - Joie, force et solitude. - A qui s'adresse-t-il ? - A la lune. - Où va la rivière ? - Remplir la mer. - A qui la nuit fait-elle peur ? - A ceux qui attendent le jour pour voir. - Es-tu vent ou nuage ? - Je suis moi. - Es-tu vent ou nuage ? - Vent. - Es-tu ombre ou lumière ? - Je suis moi. - Es-tu ombre ou lumière ? - Les deux. - Que devient une lame qui se brise ? - Une poussière d'étoile. - Que fais-tu devant une rivière que tu ne peux pas traverser ? - Je le traverse. - Que devient une étoile qui meurt ? - Un rêve qui vit. - Offre moi un mot. - Silence. - Un autre. - Harmonie. - Un dernier. - Fluidité. - L'ours et le chien se disputent un territoire, qui a raison ? - Le chat qui les observe. - Marie tes trois mots. - Marchombre.

Scholars, I plead with you, Where are your dictionaries of the wind, the grasses?

Rejoice with glitters of ashes tonight Sparkling for moon's spiced silver bite Upon skin of darkness, loving night more Storm begins unlocking cold wind's door

~Seasons of Life~ When the sunburn I blind, When the sky showers I cover, When the wind blows I blanket, When the death calls I undergo, When would I experience the nature?

She accepted it uncertainly. “This will help?” Without waiting for an answer, with that unsettling trust of hers, she popped open the lid and dug in her finger, smearing the slick substance on and around her mouth. Going outside of the lines, as he deduced she did with most everything in her life. When she was done, she looked absolutely ridiculous. Caine barely resisted smiling at her. “It will help immensely.

Similar souls wander in the similar places! They may not know each other, but often they touch the same winds, they step on the same leaves, their looks are lost in the same horizons!

..snow gently settles like dust in a shaft - for one moment there is no one else - only the wind like the hiss of an ice skate ...

Sometimes a strong wind blows suddenly and you leave your beloved tree without saying even goodbye, like a pale autumn leaf! This uncertainty of life makes every moment in life infinitely precious.

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 it doesn't make sense- the short periods of time we get with the best moments and with people, or their outcomes from their choices. However, if we turn it over to the golden light that flies around us. The breathing wind of the evening promises that we will see the big picture in the hereafter with a new dawn tomorrow. Nothing is too small to be a mistake.

Sometimes the wind will take you, or sometimes the wind will carry you.

Song on Applying War Paint: At the center of the earth I stand, Behold me! At the wind center I stand, Behold me! A root of medicine Therefore I stand, At the wind center I stand.

Sopra i tetti delle case si vedevano striscioni di nubi, sfregati e pestati dal vento, che, lassù, doveva soffiare libero come aveva soffiato al principio del mondo.

SUMMER the cattails sway and the bamboo dances gently into the brightness of a happy day.

The dust dreams of the world it had once been. But the dust, alas, does not command the wind.

The endless ocean was his sole companion , and on some deeply sentimental level, it seemed sufficient. Almost apt. He aligned himself with Thoreau and Tolstoy, he felt like their peers. The kinship with nature devoted humans to a mythical state, a heightened persona beyond the reach of mere mortals. At least that was what he told himself on the lonely nights when insomnia played on his fears and the howling wind pierced through his soul.

The electrical distribution system has become very dangerous due to the reverse currents that are flowing in it from solar and wind power generation systems.

Quello che un attimo fa era un caldo abbraccio si è trasformato in un freddo soffio di vento...

She loves him so but he didn't stay. The wind can't blow this storm away.

She took another step. The simple motion of her moving leg was like a dance, the unexaggerated shifting of her hip entrancing as a fire. The arch of her bare foot said more of sex than anything I'd seen in my young life.

Sie haben uns förmlich von der Außenwelt abgeschnitten, Josua,« unterbrach Zwakh die Stille, »seit Sie das Fenster geschlossen haben, hat niemand mehr ein Wort gesprochen.« »Ich dachte nur darüber nach, als vorhin die Mäntel so flogen, wie seltsam es ist, wenn der Wind leblose Dinge bewegt,« antwortete Prokop schnell, wie um sich wegen seines Schweigens zu entschuldigen: »Es sieht gar so wunderlich aus, wenn Gegenstände plötzlich zu flattern anheben, die sonst immer tot daliegen. Nicht? – Ich sah einmal auf einem menschenleeren Platz zu, wie große Papierfetzen, – ohne daß ich vom Winde etwas spürte, denn ich stand durch ein Haus gedeckt, – in toller Wut im Kreise herumjagten und einander verfolgten, als hätten sie sich den Tod geschworen. Einen Augenblick später schienen sie sich beruhigt zu haben, aber plötzlich kam wieder eine wahnwitzige Erbitterung über sie, und in sinnlosem Grimm rasten sie umher, drängten sich in einen Winkel zusammen, um von neuem besessen auseinander zu stieben und schließlich hinter einer Ecke zu verschwinden. Nur eine dicke Zeitung konnte nicht mitkommen; sie blieb auf dem Pflaster liegen und klappte haßerfüllt auf und zu, als sei ihr der Atem ausgegangen und als schnappe sie nach Luft. Ein dunkler Verdacht stieg damals in mir auf: was, wenn am Ende wir Lebewesen auch so etwas Ähnliches wären wie solche Papierfetzen? – Ob nicht vielleicht ein unsichtbarer, unbegreiflicher »Wind« auch uns hin und her treibt und unsre Handlungen bestimmt, während wir in unserer Einfalt glauben unter eigenem, freiem Willen zu stehen? Wie, wenn das Leben in uns nichts anderes wäre als ein rätselhafter Wirbelwind? Jener Wind, von dem die Bibel sagt: Weißt du, von wannen er kommt und wohin er geht? – – – Träumen wir nicht auch zuweilen, wir griffen in tiefes Wasser und fingen silberne Fische, und nichts anderes ist geschehen, als daß ein kalter Luftzug unsere Hände traf?

Sometimes a man must throw caution to the wind.

That had always been the beauty of the wind. It could only be seen through its actions, its effect on others. A gentle reminder that reality does not only exist in the seeable, the palpable, the understandable, but also in the figments and daydreams, the steadfast beliefs and unexplainable uncertainties. Reality is seen and yet unseen. Wholly and absolutely relative. The wind had taught him that.

The afternoon our story begins, the quiet parts of being alive were the busiest: wind unlocking Windows; rainlight nudging curtains apart; fresh-cut grass tickling unsocked feet. Days like this made Alice want to set off on a great adventure.

The bleak autumn wind was still blowing, and the solemn, surging moan of it in the wood was dreary and awful to hear through the night silence. Issac felt strangely wakeful. He resolved, as he lay down in bed, to keep the candle alight until he began to grow sleepy; for there was something unendurably depressing in the bare idea of lying awake in the darkness, listening to the dismal, ceaseless moan of the wind in the wood. ("The Dream Woman")

The breath of life is in the sunlight and the hand of life is in the wind.

The collar had restrained his winds but not killed them. They uncoiled from behind the shadows, ready to surround her, to lift her up, to carry her away with only Ariel’s silk-clad arms wrapped about her to keep her from falling. Spirare, they whispered to her like an incantation. Breathe us in. Bertie didn’t mean to, but she inhaled, and everything inside her was a spring morning, a rose opening its petals to the sun, the light coming through the wavering glass of an old, diamond-paned window. Tendrils of wind reached for Bertie with a coaxing hand. Release him, and he will love you.

The current generation of solar and wind power systems generally introduce instability into the electrical utility grid system with their intermittent power generation characteristics and electronically generated harmonic energy.

The era of biologically toxic wireless radio frequency (RF) radiation and harmonic electronic power generation from wind and solar systems with their adverse brain modifying effects that can bring on irritable and aggressive behaviors has made it a bad time to be a police officer.

The evening darkens over After a day so bright, The windcapt waves discover That wild will be the night.

The pools had been written onto the fields by the rain. The pools were a magic worked by the rain, just as the tumbling of the black birds against the grey was a spell that the sky was working and the motion of grey-brown grasses was a spell that the wind made. Everything had meaning.

There are always waves on the water. Sometimes they are big, sometimes they are small, and sometimes they are almost imperceptible. The water’s waves are churned up by the winds, which come and go and vary in direction and intensity, just as do the winds of stress and change in our lives, which stir up the waves in our minds.

There are mornings when, from the first ray of light seized upon by the eye, and the first simple sounds that get inside the head, the heart is convinced that it is existing in rhythm to a kind of unheard music, familiar but forgotten because long ago it was interrupted and only now has suddenly resumed playing. The silent melodies pass through the fabric of the consciousness like the wind through the meshes of a net, without moving it, but at the same time unmistakably there, all around it. For one who has never lived such a morning, its advent can be a paralyzing experience.

There are no roses in my yard: what wind brought you? But I suddenly come from far away. I was sick for a moment. No wind whatsoever brought you now. Now you’re here. What you were isn’t you, or else the whole rose would be here.

There are times when the unseen can be even more dangerous than what our eyes behold.

The garden was full of sorrow Songbirds and unusual winds whistled a rhyme Clouds caused to appear and cast down darkness For this was the first day the sun didn't shine

The greatest lesson a tree can give you is to stand tall and proud, no matter how strong life’s winds blow against you.

The important concept of the solar wind is that Space is not empty. It is an energy and particle filled environment that interacts with whatever is in it! Astronomers call this 'Dark Energy'.

The masses have yet to realize that generating your own electricity is a potentially hazardous activity to engage in.

There is no love story more beautiful than that between wind and rain.

There’s always books. And the wind through trees.

There was no wind which could have swept my thoughts away from my bositerous heart; not that day, not this day and not any other day

There were streetlights here, but they were so far apart and surrounded by trees that light dropped away to solid black between them. The skin on the back of his neck crawled as he became aware of the darkness. He didn't usually walk around after nightfall, but tonight he'd had no choice without his car. The wind lifted his hair, leaving him shivering; a voice in his mind chattered nervously. There was someone in my yard the other night...

The sky was becoming iron, and the trees seemed to rustle uneasily at an unfelt wind, murmuring to one another, Weather is coming.

The sloshing of their hooves in the paddy field that I heard thirty yards away, my car door open for the breeze, the haunting sound I was caught within as if creatures of magnificence were undressing and removing their wings

The small launch bay was littered with debris. A powerful breeze tore at his black silk shirt as Kilroy made his way across it to the waiting shuttle, evoking a feeling like the fingers of fate were caressing his body. “The Hammer” stepped over the body of one of his fallen crew without a trace of care or concern. The air was rushing past him, like a wind, out into space through the wounds in the side of his ship. Fatigued and desperate, the Hammer was running out of options. His ship was a mess, holed in a dozen places, the life support systems failing. Weakened hull sections were collapsing in pressure bursts. The vibrations that shook the deck beneath him now were not from the engines that once drove her forward, but now from the explosions down below, tearing her apart.