Wind Quotes - Page 29

• And over it all, the butterflies swarmed, like a million yellow-pettalled flowers dancing on swirling winds.

  Steven Erikson

  Flower, Butterfly, Yellow

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• All true stories begin and end in a cemetery" - The Shadow of the Wind

  Carlos Ruiz Zafon

  Shadow, Stories, Ends

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• He knew what the wind was doing to them, where it was taking them, to all the secret places that were never so secret again in life.

  Ray Bradbury

  Secret Places, Secret

  Ray Bradbury (2013). “Something Wicked This Way Comes”, p.17, Harper Collins

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• At times I believed that the last page of my book and the last page of my life were one and the same, that when my book ended I'd end, a great wind would sweep through my rooms carrying the pages away, and when the air cleared of all those fluttering white sheets the room would be silent, the chair where I sat empty.

  Nicole Krauss

  Book, Writing, White

  Nicole Krauss (2006). “The History of Love: A Novel”, p.9, W. W. Norton & Company

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• She had taken to wondering lately, during these swift-counted years, what had been done with all those wasted summer days; how could she have spent them so wantonly? I am foolish, she told herself early every summer, I am very foolish; I am grown up now and know the values of things. Nothing is ever really wasted, she believed sensibly, even one's childhood, and then each year, one summer morning, the warm wind would come down the city street where she walked and she would be touched with the little cold thought: I have let more time go by.

  Shirley Jackson

  Summer, Morning, Taken

  Shirley Jackson (2006). “The Haunting of Hill House”, p.26, Penguin

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• If you run into a psychic wall face-first, do you wind up with psychic bruises? -Clary, pg.239-

  Cassandra Clare

  Running, Wall, Psychics

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• Look at the sky. It’s not dark and black and without character. The black is, in fact deep blue. And over there: lighter blue and blowing through the blues and blackness the winds swirling through the air and then shining, burning, bursting through: the stars! And you see how they roar their light. Everywhere we look, the complex magic of nature blazes before our eyes.

  Richard Curtis

  Stars, Character, Eye

  "Fictional character: Vincent Van Gogh". TV Series "Doctor Who" ("Vincent and the Doctor", 2010), www.imdb.com. (2005 - ).

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• Something is happening. I sense a change in the wind…a mutual understanding of each other. I haven’t felt this way in forever.

  Simone Elkeles

  Forever, Understanding, Way

  Simone Elkeles (2011). “Perfect Chemistry”, p.157, Simon and Schuster

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• As we trudge back through the woods, we reach a boulder, and both Gale and I turn our heads in the same direction, like a pair of dogs catching a scent on the wind. Cressida notices and asks what lies that way. We admit, without acknowledging each other, it's our old hunting rendez-vous place. She wants to see it, even after we tell her it's nothing really. Nothing but a place where I was happy, I think.

  Suzanne Collins

  Dog, Lying, Thinking

  Suzanne Collins (2010). “Mockingjay (The Hunger Games, Book 3)”, p.127, Scholastic Inc.

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• I'm not so sure about this wind and howling darkness business," Jace went on, "smells more like landfill to me. You sure you're not from Staten Island?

  Cassandra Clare

  Islands, Smell, Darkness

  Cassandra Clare (2010). “Cassandra Clare: The Mortal Instrument Series (3 books): City of Bones; City of Ashes; City of Glass”, p.309, Simon and Schuster

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• I could hear the icy winds of Sweden, but he didn't seem to feel the chill.

  Janet Fitch

  Icy, Sweden, Chill

  Janet Fitch (2013). “White Oleander”, p.13, Hachette UK

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• If it winds up earlier, you should have a movie picked out. This is assuming she isn’t sending you the ‘let’s go back to my place’ signals. In that case—” “Don’t go there, Bob. Let’s just not go there.

  Nora Roberts

  Should Have, Bob, Assuming

  Nora Roberts (2009). “Vision In White: Number 1 in series”, p.93, Hachette UK

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• I believe one would write better if the climate were bad. If there were a lot of wind and storms for example.

  Aldous Huxley

  Believe, Writing, Storm

  Peter Edgerly Firchow, Aldous Huxley (1984). “The end of Utopia: a study of Aldous Huxley's Brave new world”, Bucknell Univ Pr

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• Listen to the trees as they sway in the wind. Their leaves are telling secrets. Their bark sings songs of olden days as it grows around the trunks. And their roots give names to all things. Their language has been lost. But not the gestures.

  Vera Nazarian

  Inspirational, Song, Names

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• Every ending is arbitrary, because the end is where you write The end. A period, a dot of punctuation, a point of stasis. A pinprick in the paper: you could put your eye to it and see through, to the other side, to the beginning of something else. Or, as Tony says to her students, Time is not a solid, like wood, but a fluid, like water or the wind. It doesn't come neatly cut into even-sized length, into decades and centuries. Nevertheless, for our purposes we have to pretend it does. The end of any history is a lie in which we all agree to conspire.

  Margaret Atwood

  Lying, Eye, Writing

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• She was as forthright and simple as the winds that blew over Tara and the yellow river that wound around it.

  Margaret Mitchell

  Simple, Rivers, Yellow

  Margaret Mitchell (2016). “Gone with the Wind”, p.16, Hamilton Books

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• as a bird swoops down on it's prey, and assumes this land bound wretch into heaven, so did romeo steal her lips before they fled him again. suspended somewhere between cherubs and devils, his quarry ceased to buck, and he spread his wings wide and let the rising wind carry them off across the sky, until even the predator himself had lost every hope of returning home. within that one embrace, [he] became aware of a feeling of certainty he had not thought possible for anyone - even the virtuous. with her in his arms, all other women, past, present, and future, simply ceased to exist.

  Anne Fortier

  Home, Past, Land

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• Everything's got a purpose, really - you just have to look for it. Cats are good at keeping old dogs alive. Loss helps you reach for gain. Death helps you celebrate life. War helps you work for peace. A flood makes you glad you're still standing. And a tall boy can stop the wind so a candle of hope can burn bright.

  Joan Bauer

  Dog, War, Cat

  "Stand Tall". Book by Joan Bauer, August 26, 2002.

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• Give me a hot coal glowing bright red, Give me an ember sizzling with heat, These are the jewels made from my beak. We fly between the flames and never get singed We plunge through the smoke and never cringe. The secrets of fire, its strange winds, its rages, We know it all as it rampages Through forests, through canyons, Up hillsides and down. We track it. We'll find it. Take coals by the pound. We'll yarp in the heart of the hottest flame Then bring back its coals an make them tame. For we are the colliers brave and beyond all We are the owls of the colliering chaw!

  Kathryn Lasky

  Heart, Fire, Glowing

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• Before you save anyone else, you have to save yourself. otherwise, you'rejust a bundle of tics, a stringed puppet manipulated by the chance and the insensible wind.

  Gregory Maguire

  Puppets, Chance, Tics

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• Winter hurled more wind and rain at the city than it ever had before. Clouds dashed about in all directions emptying their thunder, hail and rain. The horizon was choked in fog.

  Ismail Kadaré

  Rain, Winter, Clouds

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• Once a man gets a reputation as a liar, he might as well be struck dumb, for people do not listen to the wind.

  Robert A. Heinlein

  Liars, Men, People

  Robert A. Heinlein (2005). “Citizen of the Galaxy”, p.22, Simon and Schuster

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• How well I know what I mean to do When the long dark Autumn evenings come, And where, my soul, is thy pleasant hue? With the music of all thy voices, dumb In life’s November too! I shall be found by the fire, suppose, O’er a great wise book as beseemeth age, While the shutters flap as the cross-wind blows, And I turn the page, and I turn the page, Not verse now, only prose!

  Robert Browning

  Wise, Book, Mean

  'By the Fireside' (1855) st. 2

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• So let the way wind up the hill or down, O’er rough or smooth, the journey will be joy; Still seeking what I sought when but a boy, New friendship, high adventure, and a crown. My heart will keep the courage of the quest, And hope the road’s last turn will be the best.

  Henry Van Dyke

  Heart, Adventure, Journey

  Henry Van Dyke (1904). “Music, and Other Poems”

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• The great miraculous bell of translucent ice is suspended in mid-air. It rings to announce endings and beginnings. And it rings because there is fresh promise and wonder in the skies. Its clear tones resound in the placid silence of the winter day, and echo long into the silver-blue serenity of night. The bell can only be seen at the turning of the year, when the days wind down into nothing, and get ready to march out again. When you hear the bell, you feel a tug at your heart. It is your immortal inspiration.

  Vera Nazarian

  Inspiration, Heart, Winter

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