How long the thick dark clouds can prevent the truth from shining? The truth is an arrow that can pass through any shield!
Housework hassles go on, are never resolved, and will probably extend into the afterlife ('Why am I the one who takes the clouds to the dry cleaners?').
I'm just moving clouds today, tomorrow I'll try mountains.
The first sign of a 'smoking gun,' they argue, may be a mushroom cloud.
The inhabitants of earth behold commonly but the dark and shadowy under side of heaven's pavement; it is only when seen at a favorable angle in the horizon, morning or evening, that some faint streaks of the rich lining of the clouds are revealed.
In the middle of a wheat field under a beautiful sunshine anybody can be happy; the important thing is to be happy in the middle of a storm under the darkest clouds!
Realise well, proud little man that even the highest clouds don't shine! For above all things there lie brightest stars.
Seek truth! Seek truth in the darkness, under the oceans, above the clouds; seek it everywhere and every time! Stop deceiving yourself with the untruth, seek the truth!
Celebrate your success and stand strong when adversity hits, for when the storm clouds come in, the eagles soar while the small birds take cover.
Every true artist does feel, consciously or unconsciously, that he is touching transcendental truths; that his images are shadows of things seen through the veil. In other words, the natural mystic does know that there is something there, something behind the clouds or within the trees; but he believes that the pursuit of beauty is the way to find it; that imagination is a sort of incantation that can call it up.
Endless drama in a group clouds consciousness. Too much noise overwhelms the senses. Continual input obscures genuine insight. Do not substitute sensationalism for learning.
Reach for the sky Keep your eye on the prize Forever in my mind Be my golden sunshine It's raining in your mind So push them clouds aside Forever by my side You're my golden sunshine
Clouds and darkness surround us, yet Heaven is just, and the day of triumph will surely come, when justice and truth will be vindicated. Our wrongs will be made right, and we will once more taste the blessings of freedom
Contemporary poetry ... tries to transform the sign back into meaning: its ideal, ultimately, would be to reach not the meaning of words, but the meaning of things themselves. This is why it clouds the language, increases as much as it can the abstractness of the concept and the arbitrariness of the sign and stretches to the limit the link between signifier and signified.
Teenagers are bored. By everything. Show a teenager an actual volcanic eruption, in progress, featuring giant billowing clouds of smoke, hot rocks raining from the sky, lava floes destroying entire villages, etc., and the teenager, eyebrows arched with sarcasm, will look at you and say, "Gee, this is swell," then return to the rental car, turn on his portable CD player, and listen to a band called Stomach Contents.
There is some CO2-water vapor feedback. But it's not operating on a global scale. The modellers cannot accurately separate water vapour from the effects of clouds and rainfall.
The warming we've experienced in the late 20th century could just as easily be explained by small decreases in cloud cover - natural changes in the system - and have nothing to do with CO2.
My 12-year-old daughter said to me, "Enough with the subtitles, Daddy, for crying out loud." Because they always seem to cloud the issue rather than clarify it.
Raindrops are beating, a large puddle is forming, there on the balcony. It all floats in Emptiness, in purest Transparency, with no one here to watch it. If there is an I, it is all that is arising, right now and right now and right now. My lungs are the sky; those mountains are my teeth; the clouds are my skin; the thunder is my heart beating time to the timeless; the rain itself, the tears of our collective estate, here where nothing is really happening.
When I look up and see the sun shining on the patch of white clouds up in the blue, I begin to think how it would feel to be up somewhere above it winging swiftly through the clean air, watching the earth below.
The stormy March has come at last, With winds and clouds and changing skies; I hear the rushing of the blast That through the snowy valley flies.
Through woods and mountain passes The winds, like anthems, roll.
There is no morality in the mushroom cloud. The black rain of nuclear ashes will fall alike on the just and the unjust. And then it will be too late to wish that we had done the real work of this atomic age, which is to seek a world that is neither red nor dead.
When the sky is totally covered by the dark clouds, be strong enough to see the bright stars beyond them!
When the thick layers of dark clouds occupy the sky, if there is no wind at all to sweep them away, start blowing with courage and belief
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