Breeze Quotes - Page 16

• A thousand trills and quivering sounds In airy circles o'er us fly, Till, wafted by a gentle breeze, They faint and languish by degrees, And at a distance die.

  Joseph Addison

  Distance, Circles, Sound

  Joseph Addison (2017). “Delphi Complete Works of Joseph Addison (Illustrated)”, p.323, Delphi Classics

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• Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees, Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze.

  William Cowper

  Spring, Rocks, Tree

  William Cowper, Robert Southey, William Harvey (1835). “The Works of William Cowper: Comprising His Poems, Correspondence, and Translations. With a Life of the Author”, p.142

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• She comes majestic with her swelling sails, The gallant Ship: along her watery way, Homeward she drives before the favouring gales; Now flirting at their length the streamers play, And now they ripple with the ruffling breeze.

  Robert Southey

  Flirting, Play, Way

  Robert Southey (1853). “The Poetical Works of Robert Southey”, p.99

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• The Blossoms and leaves in plenty From the apple tree fall each day; The merry breezes approach them, And with them merrily play.

  Heinrich Heine

  Fall, Play, Apples

  Heinrich Heine (2016). “Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Heinrich Heine (Illustrated)”, p.159, Delphi Classics

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• Get a life in which you notice the smell of salt water pushing itself on a breeze over the dunes, a life in which you stop and watch how a red-tailed hawk circles over a pond and a stand of pines. Get a life in which you pay attention to the baby as she scowls with concentration when she tried to pick up a Cheerio with her thumb and first finger.

  Anna Quindlen

  Baby, Circles, Smell

  "A Short Guide to a Happy Life". Book by Anna Quindlen, 2000.

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• Only--but this is rare--
  When a beloved hand is laid in ours,
  When, jaded with the rush and glare
  Of the interminable hours,
  Our eyes can in another's eyes read clear,
  When our world-deafen'd ear
  Is by the tones of a loved voice caress'd--
  A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast,
  And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again.
  The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain,
  And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know.
  A man becomes aware of his life's flow,
  And hears its winding murmur; and he sees
  The meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze.

  Matthew Arnold

  Lying, Heart, Mean

  Matthew Arnold (1994). “Dover Beach and Other Poems”, p.25, Courier Corporation

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• One Divine Moment In The Sweet Sanctuary Of this shade We heard the birds The leaves in the breeze And waves as they played And in one divine moment We felt our hearts melt Suddenly we knew How nature Prayed

  Silent lotus

  Sweet, Heart, Bird

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• September's Baccalaureate A combination is Of Crickets - Crows - and Retrospects And a dissembling Breeze That hints without assuming - An Innuendo sear That makes the Heart put up its Fun And turn Philosopher.

  Emily Dickinson

  Fun, Heart, Crow

  Emily Dickinson, Cristanne Miller (2016). “Emily Dickinson’s Poems: As She Preserved Them”, p.516, Harvard University Press

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• Each string of a wind harp responds with a different note to the same breeze. What activity makes you personally resonate most strongly, most deeply?

  David Steindl-Rast

  Wind, Independence, Different

  David Steindl-rast (2010). “Deeper Than Words: Living the Apostles' Creed”, p.137, Image

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• Chance will not do the work. Chance sends the breeze;
  But if the pilot slumber at the helm,
  The very wind that wafts us tow'rds the port
  May dash us on the shoals. The steersman's part
  Is vigilance, or blow it rough or smooth.

  Ben Jonson

  Blow, Wind, Slumber

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• The perfection of conversation is not to play a regular sonata, but, like the AEolian harp, to await the inspiration of the passing breeze.

  Edmund Burke

  Inspiration, Play, Perfection

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• Death rides on every passing breeze,
  He lurks in every flower.

  Reginald Heber

  Death, Flower, Passing

  Reginald Heber (1859). “Poetical Works”, p.227

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• Lightning crashed on the horizon. A breeze swirled around the Cast Members. The air tasted dusty, almost bitter, with electrical charge.

  Ridley Pearson

  Air, Lightning, Horizon

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• Kerouac was a breeze, some kind of incredible super-American, mythos personality blasting through the highways of 1947 America.

  Jerry Garcia

  America, Personality, Kind

  Source: medium.com

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• I, methought, while the sweet breath of heaven Was blowing on my body, felt within A correspondent breeze, that gently moved With quickening virtue, but is now become A tempest, a redundant energy, Vexing its own creation.

  William Wordsworth

  Sweet, Heaven, Body

  1799-1805 The Prelude, bk.1, l.33-8 (published 1850).

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• Oh there is blessing in this gentle breeze, A visitant that while it fans my cheek Doth seem half-conscious of the joy it brings From the green fields, and from yon azure sky. Whate'er its mission, the soft breeze can come To none more grateful than to me; escaped From the vast city, where I long had pined A discontented sojourner: now free, Free as a bird to settle where I will.

  William Wordsworth

  Grateful, Blessing, Cities

  1799-1805 The Prelude, bk.1, l.1-9 (published 1850).

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• The tear, down childhood's cheek that flows, Is like the dewdrop on the rose; When next the summer breeze comes by And waves the bush, the flower is dry.

  Walter Scott

  Summer, Flower, Rose

  Walter Scott, Sir Walter Scott (1841). “The Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott, Bart”, p.319

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• Oh! To be a flower Nodding in the sun, Bending, then upspringing As the breezes run.

  Amy Lowell

  Running, Flower, Bending

  Amy Lowell (2009). “A Dome of Many-Coloured Glass”, p.19, ReadHowYouWant.com

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• What would happen if history could be rewritten as casually as erasing a blackboard? Our past would be like the shifting sands at the seashore, constantly blown this way or that by the slightest breeze. History would be constantly changing every time someone spun the dial of a time machine and blundered his or her way into the past. History, as we know it, would be impossible. It would cease to exist.

  Michio Kaku

  Past, Machines, Way

  Michio Kaku (1995). “Hyperspace: A Scientific Odyssey Through Parallel Universes, Time Warps, and the Tenth Dimension”, p.235, Oxford University Press, USA

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• Our yesterdays Are like a lonely and a ruined land Wherein a breeze of recollection sighs-- A fading land to which is no return.

  Henry Abbey

  Lonely, Past, Land

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• It should be for satsang that we go to spiritual centers. By going there, people who are involved in the world can attain peace and concentration. The concentration gained when one goes there cannot be achieved if one sits at home. Even though the breeze blows everywhere, coolness will be felt more if we sit in the shade of a tree. In the same way, although God is all-pervading, this presence will clearly shine in certain places more than others. That is the greatness of satsang. Satsang is the best thing for spiritual advancement.

  Mata Amritanandamayi

  Spiritual, Home, Blow

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• My friends: Music is the language of spirits. Its melody is like the frolicsome breeze that makes the strings quiver with love. When the gentle fingers of Music knock at the door of our feelings, they awaken memories that have long lain hidden in the depths of the Past. The sad strains of Music bring us mournful recollections; and her quiet strains bring us joyful memories. The sound of strings makes us weep at the departure of a dear one, or makes us smile at the peace God has bestowed upon us.

  Khalil Gibran

  Memories, Past, Doors

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• Swift flies our time on pinions fleet, Like vapours on the breeze; The transient bliss we now call sweet, The passing moments seize. The gilded joy, the present hour, Soon wing themselves away; Departing like the fading flower That pleas'd us Yesterday.

  William Muir

  Sweet, Flower, Wings

  William Muir (1818). “Poems on Various Subjects”, p.91

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• But then to part! to part when Time Has wreathed his tireless wing with flowers, And spread the richness of a clime Of fairy o'er this land of ours; When glistening leaves and shaded streams In the soft light of Autumn lay, And, like the music of our dreams, The viewless breezes seemed to stray 'T was bitter then to rend the heart With the sad thought that we must part; And, like some low and mournful spell, To whisper but one word farewell!

  Benjamin

  Dream, Flower, Farewell

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• They [Americans] augur misgovernment at a distance and snuff the approach of tyranny in every tainted breeze.

  Edmund Burke

  Distance, Snuff, Tyranny

  "On Moving His Resolutions for Conciliation with the Colonies," 22 Mar. 1775

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