Wind Quotes - Page 18

• Before we met, I'd fly for hours to clear my head," Bones said, his voice reaching me even over the rush of wind. "It was the closest I came to finding peace, but though several of my mates could fly, I always went alone. I never wanted to share this with anyone until you.

  Jeaniene Frost

  Voice, Bones, Finding Peace

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• At Last It's a perfect winter day. No wind. No Arctic freeze. Cloudless azure sky. A day to fly. Snow drapes the mountain like ermine, fabulous feather- light powder coaxing me to flee the confines of my room, brave the mostly plowed road up to the closest ski resort. To run from the cloying silence connected Mom and Dad, into encompassing stillness far away from city dirt and noise Far above suburban gridlock. Far beyond the grasp of home.

  Ellen Hopkins

  Mom, Running, Dad

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• Thou shalt be free As mountain winds: but then exactly do All points of my command.

  William Shakespeare

  Mountain, Command

  William Shakespeare (2007). “The Tempest (Shakespeare Library Classic)”, p.38, Filiquarian Publishing, LLC.

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• There is eloquence in the tongueless wind, and a melody in the flowing brooks and the rustling of the reeds beside them, which by their inconceivable relation to something within the soul, awaken the spirits to a dance of breathless rapture, and bring tears of mysterious tenderness to the eyes, like the enthusiasm of patriotic success, or the voice of one beloved singing to you alone.

  Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Patriotic, Eye, Voice

  Percy Bysshe Shelley (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (Illustrated)”, p.1818, Delphi Classics

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• Marco knows he does not have the time to push her away, so he pulls her close, burying his face in her hair, his bowler hat torn from his head by the wind...."Trust me," Celia whispers in his ear, and he stops fighting it, forgetting everything but her.

  Erin Morgenstern

  Fighting, Hair, Doe

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• Time is a wind that keeps blowing in my face and mumbling words that don't make sense.

  Shannon Hale

  Faces, Make Sense

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• The night is darkening round me,
  The wild winds coldly blow;
  But a tyrant spell has bound me
  And I cannot, cannot go.
  The giant trees are bending
  Their bare boughs weighed with snow;
  The storm is fast descending,
  And yet I cannot go.
  Clouds beyond clouds above me,
  Wastes beyond wastes below;
  But nothing drear can move me;
  I will not, cannot go.

  Emily Bronte

  Moving, Night, Blow

  "The Night is Darkening Round Me". Poem by Emily Bronte, www.poetryfoundation.org. November 1837.

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• I have an impulse to write all over the orange walls- I need an alphabet of endings ripped out of books, of hands pulled off of clocks, of cold stones, of shoes filled with nothing but wind.

  Jandy Nelson

  Wall, Book, Writing

  Jandy Nelson (2010). “The Sky Is Everywhere”, p.33, Penguin

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• Do I know what people say? Sure. I shrug it off. what else can you do? Stop people from talking? You might as well try to stop the wind from blowing.

  Stephen King

  Talking, People, Trying

  Stephen King (2016). “11/22/63: A Novel”, p.27, Simon and Schuster

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• Katsa watched the long grass moving around them. The wind pushed it, attacked it, struck it in one place and then another. It rose and fell and rose again. It flowed, like water.

  Kristin Cashore

  Moving, Long Grass, Water

  Kristin Cashore (2009). “Graceling”, p.128, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• Will nodded slowly, then looked up at tha black sky. "The stars", he said. "I have never seen them so bright. The wind has blown off the fog, I think." Magnus thought of the joy on Will's face as he had stood bleeding in Camille's living room, clutching the demon tooth in his hand. Somehow I don't think it's the stars that have changed.

  Cassandra Clare

  Stars, Thinking, Fog

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• She could've looked at the tiny miracles in front of her: my feet, my hands, my fingers, the shape of my shoulders beneath my jacket, my human body, but she only stared at my eyes. The wind whipped again, through the trees, but it had no force, no power over me. The cold bit at my fingers, but they stayed fingers. "Grace," I said, very softly. "Say something." "Sam," she said, and I crushed her to me.

  Maggie Stiefvater

  Eye, Hands, Feet

  "Shiver". Book by Maggie Stiefvater, August 1, 2009.

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• dive for dreams or a slogan may topple you (trees are their roots and wind is wind) trust your heart if the seas catch fire (and live by love though the stars walk backward) honour the past but welcome the future (and dance your death away at this wedding) never mind a world with its villains or heroes (for god likes girls and tomorrow and the earth)

  e. e. cummings

  Girl, Dream, Stars

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• As long as I can make them laugh, it doesn’t matter how, I’ll be alright. If I succeed in that, the human beings probably won’t mind it too much if I remain outside their lives. The one thing I must avoid is becoming offensive in their eyes: I shall be nothing, the wind, the sky.

  Osamu Dazai

  Eye, Sky, Long

  Osamu Dazai (1973). “No Longer Human”, p.13, New Directions Publishing

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• Farewell," they cried, "Wherever you fare till your eyries receive you at the journey's end!" That is the polite thing to say among eagles. "May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks," answered Gandalf, who knew the correct reply.

  J. R. R. Tolkien

  Farewell, Moon, Journey

  J.R.R. Tolkien (2012). “The Hobbit”, p.65, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• Truth was funny, because it was an insistent thing, maybe as powerful and insistent as some force of nature, the push of water or wind. You could keep it out only so long, but it had its own will and its own needs, and maybe you could keep it at bay with lies, but not for long, not for always.

  Deb Caletti

  Powerful, Lying, Long

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• (P)eople’s good intentions can wind up putting us in boxes as confining as coffins.

  Gayle Forman

  Coffins, Good Intentions, Boxes

  Gayle Forman (2011). “Where She Went”, p.92, Penguin

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• You could hear the wind in the leaves, and on that wind traveled the screams of the kids on the playground in the distance, little kids figuring out how to be alive, how to navigate a world that wasn't made for them by navigating a playground that was.

  John Green

  Distance, Kids, Alive

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• Thomas More: Will, I'd trust you with my life. But not your principles. You see, we speak of being anchored to our principles. But if the weather turns nasty you up with an anchor and let it down where there's less wind, and the fishing's better. And "Look," we say, "look, I'm anchored! To my principles!

  Robert Bolt

  Anchors, Fishing, Weather

  Robert Bolt (2013). “A Man For All Seasons”, p.43, A&C Black

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• Above us, the wind blew and the branching shadows rearranged themselves on our skin. Gus squeezed my hand. "It is a good life, Hazel Grace.

  John Green

  Good Life, Hands, Grace

  John Green (2012). “The Fault in Our Stars”, p.153, Penguin UK

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• True names,” said September wonderingly. “These are all true names. Like, when your parents call you to dinner and you don’t come and they call again but you still don’t come, and they call you by all your names together, and then, of course, you have to come, and right quick. Because true names have power, like Lye said. But I never told anyone my true name. The Green Wind told me not to. I didn’t understand what he meant, but I do now.

  Catherynne M. Valente

  Names, Parent, Together

  Catherynne M. Valente (2011). “The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making”, p.223, Macmillan

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• One can never be sure,” the Green Wind sighed. “There is always the danger of kisses where sleeping maids are concerned. But you are safe now, and for awhile yet, and why worry about a thing that may never come to pass? Do not ruin today with mourning tomorrow.

  Catherynne M. Valente

  Sleep, Kissing, Worry

  Catherynne M. Valente (2014). “The Fairyland Series”, p.273, Macmillan

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• Dawn's faint breath breathes with your mouth at the ends of empty streets. Gray light your eyes, sweet drops of dawn on dark hills. Your steps and breath like the wind of dawn smother houses. The city shudders, Stones exhale— you are life, an awakening. Star lost in the light of dawn, trill of the breeze, warmth, breath— the night is done. You are light and morning.

  Cesare Pavese

  Sweet, Morning, Stars

  Cesare Pavese, “In The Morning You Always Come Back”

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• And it's a disquieting thought that not even the past is done with, even that continues to change, as if in reality there is only one time, for everything, one time for every purpose under heaven. One single second, one single landscape, in which what happens activates and deactivates what has already happened in endless chain reactions, like the processes that take place in the brain, perhaps, where cells suddenly bloom and die away, all according to the way the winds of consciousness are blowing.

  Karl Ove Knausgard

  Past, Reality, Cells

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• Sometimes when I'm with you, I remember things I lost when I was your age. Like I remember the sound of the rain and the smell of the wind.

  Haruki Murakami

  Rain, Smell, Age

  Haruki Murakami (2011). “Dance Dance Dance”, p.307, Random House

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