Wind Quotes - Page 15

• Men always have their reasons. But the fact is that they always wind up leaving.

  Paulo Coelho

  Men, Leaving, Facts

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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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• When I'm with him, there is someone with me in my house of grief, someone who knows its architecture as I do, who can walk with me, from room to sorrowful room, making the whole rambling structure of wind and emptiness not quite as scary, as lonely as it was before.

  Jandy Nelson

  Lonely, Grief, House

  Jandy Nelson (2010). “The Sky Is Everywhere”, p.59, Penguin

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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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• 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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• 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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• 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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• 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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• 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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• 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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• Man’s wants remain unsatisfied till death. Then, when his soul is naked, is he one With the man in the wind, and the west moon, With the harmonious thunder of the sun

  Dylan Thomas

  Moon, Men, Soul

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• Branches grew from his hands, his hair. His thoughts tangled like roots in the ground. He strained upward. Pitch ran like tears down his back. His name formed his core; ring upon ring of silence built around it. His face rose high above the forests. Gripped to earth, bending to the wind's fury, he disappeared within himself, behind the hard, wind-scrolled shield of his experiences.

  Patricia A. McKillip

  Hair, Hands, Names

  Patricia A. McKillip (1999). “Riddle-Master”, p.535, Penguin

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• Just for fun I flew in huge banking arcs, taking deep breaths, enjoying the feel of my newly weightless hair. The stylist had called it “wind tossed.” If only she knew.

  James Patterson

  Fun, Hair, Banking

  James Patterson (2007). “The Angel Experiment”, Little, Brown and Company

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• LOVE'S SECRET Never seek to tell thy love, Love that never told can be; For the gentle wind doth move Silently, invisibly. I told my love, I told my love, I told her all my heart, Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears. Ah! she did depart! Soon after she was gone from me, A traveller came by, Silently, invisibly: He took her with a sigh.

  William Blake

  Moving, Heart, Secret

  William Blake (1973). “The Works of William Blake: Poetic, Symbolic, and Critical: Poems”

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• A little while, a moment of rest upon the wind, and another woman shall bear me.

  Khalil Gibran

  Littles, Bears, Moments

  Khalil Gibran (2014). “The Prophet - Der Prophet”, p.150, Lulu.com

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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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• If Marilyn Monroe and Princess Diana were "candles in the wind," and Anna Nicole Smith was a bonfire in a hailstorm, and Lindsay Lohan is an electric toaster thrown intentionally into a Jacuzzi, then Paris Hilton s a strobe light in an epilepsy ward.

  Cintra Wilson

  Princess, Light, Epilepsy

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• But you who walk facing the sun, what images drawn on the earth can hold you? You who travel with the wind, what weathervane shall direct your course? What man's law shall bind you if you break your yoke but upon no man's prison door? What laws shall you fear if you dance but stumble against no man's iron chains? And who is he that shall bring you to judgment if you tear off your garment yet leave it in no man's path? People of Orphalese, you can muffle the drum, and you can loosen the strings of the lyre, but who shall command the skylark not to sing?

  Khalil Gibran

  Men, Doors, Law

  Khalil Gibran (2007). “Kahlil Gibran: Masterpieces”

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• My sister had taught me to look at the world that way, as a place that glitters, as a place where the calls of the crickets and the crows and the wind are everyday occurrences that also happen to be magic.

  Cynthia Kadohata

  Life, Magic, Everyday

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• I am a Stormdancer! Mere metal is nothing compared with the power of a storm." Kade made his voice boom and spread his arms wide. His eyes sparked with humor. "I. Am. Invincible." "Until a happy wind blows," I said. "Curse those sunny days." "The bane of your existence." "The scourge of society." "The downfall of decency." "And boring, too. Nothing like a good gale to put a spring in your step." Kade grinned.

  Maria V. Snyder

  Spring, Eye, Blow

  Maria V. Snyder (2013). “Storm Glass”, p.83, Harlequin

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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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• Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light.

  Ernest Hemingway

  Light, Years, Tree

  Ernest Hemingway (2014). “The Hemingway Collection”, p.3236, Simon and Schuster

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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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• Some gave me soft words and some blunt, some made excuses, some promises, some only lied. In the end words are just wind.

  George R. R. Martin

  Promise, Blunt, Excuse

  George R. R. Martin (2003). “A Clash of Kings: A Song of Ice and Fire: Book Two”, p.23, Bantam

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