Wind Quotes - Page 39

• Some loves come unbidden like winds from the sea, and others grow from the seeds of friendship.

  Raymond E. Feist

  Sea, Grows, Seeds

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• So fine was the morning except for a streak of wind here and there that the sea and sky looked all one fabric, as if sails were stuck high up in the sky, or the clouds had dropped down into the sea.

  Virginia Woolf

  Morning, Clouds, Sea

  Virginia Woolf (2006). “To the Lighthouse”, p.27, OUP Oxford

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• The heavy eyelids snapped open. Jack froze. A huge gold-and-amber eye, as big as a dinner plater, stared at him. The dark pupil shrank, focusing. Jack stood very still. The colossal head turned, the scaled lip only three feet from Jack. The golden eyes gazed at him, wirling with fiery color. Jack breathed in tiny, shallow breaths. Dont blink. Don't blink... Two gusts of wind erutped from the wyvern's nostrils Jack jumped straight up, bounced off the ground into another jump, and scrambled up the nearest tree. In the clearing, Gaston bent over, guffawing like an idiot. 'It's not funny!

  Ilona Andrews

  Eye, Dark, Color

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• The wind of change is blowing through the continent. Whether we like it or not, this growth of national consciousness is a political fact.

  Harold MacMillan

  Change, Political, Growth

  "Mr Macmillan's appeal to South Africans". Harold MacMillan's speech to the South African Parliament, "The Times" (p. 15), February 4, 1960.

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• Rain slips through your fingers as easily as words blow away in the wind, and yet it has the power to destroy your whole world.

  Karen Maitland

  Rain, Blow, World

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• I will not go on, I thought. I won't. I will throw my soul to the wind and blow into a thousand pieces. I will wash up on a shore somewhere like bleached and broken driftwood. I will dry out in the sun until I-and any gift I ever had-shrivel into the sand.

  Janette Rallison

  Blow, Broken, Soul

  Janette Rallison (2009). “Just One Wish”, p.149, Penguin

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• In the end words are just wind.

  George R. R. Martin

  Ends

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

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• And wilt thou have me fashion into speech The love I bear thee, finding words enough, And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough, Between our faces, to cast light on each? - I dropt it at thy feet. I cannot teach My hand to hold my spirits so far off From myself--me--that I should bring thee proof In words, of love hid in me out of reach. Nay, let the silence of my womanhood Commend my woman-love to thy belief, - Seeing that I stand unwon, however wooed, And rend the garment of my life, in brief, By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude, Lest one touch of this heart convey its grief.

  Elizabeth Barrett Browning

  Fashion, Grief, Heart

  Elizabeth Barrett Browning (2009). “Sonnets from the Portuguese”, p.18, The Floating Press

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• Ah, I could lay me down in this long grass And close my eyes, and let the quiet wind Blow over me

  Edna St. Vincent Millay

  Eye, Blow, Long Grass

  Edna St Vincent, Edna St. Vincent Millay (2013). “The Edna St. Vincent Millay Collection”, p.155, eBookIt.com

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• Through wind, and tempest, storm, and rain; The calm shall be buried inside of me; A warm stone, heavy and dry; The root, the source, a weapon against pain

  Lauren Oliver

  Pain, Rain, Roots

  Lauren Oliver (2015). “Delirium Trilogy: Delirium, Pandemonium, Requiem”, p.434, Hachette UK

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• Time seems to pass. The world happens, unrolling into moments, and you stop to glance at a spider pressed to its web. There is a quickness of light and a sense of things outlined precisely and streaks of running luster on the bay. You know more surely who you are on a strong bright day after a storm when the smallest falling leaf is stabbed with self-awareness. The wind makes a sound in the pines and the world comes into being, irreversibly, and the spider rides the wind-swayed web.

  Don DeLillo

  Running, Strong, Fall

  Don DeLillo (2011). “The Body Artist”, p.3, Pan Macmillan

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• Do you hurt uncle Kisten', he asked.(...) but Kisten beat me to it. “Only my heart, Audric,” he said. “Ms. Rachel is like the sun. See her sparkling there with the wind in her hair and fire in her eyes? You can’t catch the sun. You can only feel its touch on your face. And if you get too much of it, it burns you.

  Kim Harrison

  Hurt, Uncles, Eye

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• The old church tower and garden wall Are black with autumn rain And dreary winds foreboding call The darkness down again

  Emily Bronte

  Wall, Rain, Autumn

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• I liked the solitude and the silence of the woods and the hills. I felt there the sense of a presence, something undefined and mysterious, which was reflected in the faces of the flowers and the movements of birds and animals, in the sunlight falling through the leaves and in the sound of running water, in the wind blowing on the hills and the wide expanse of earth and sky.

  Bede Griffiths

  Running, Flower, Fall

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• I think that's what finally stopped me. I slid right to the edge. My legs were hanging over. And I could feel it too. I don't know how. There was no wind, no sound, no change of temperature. There was just this terrible emptiness reaching up for me.

  Mark Z. Danielewski

  Thinking, Reaching Up, Temperature

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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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• Momma said that ghosts couldn't move over water. That's why Africans got trapped in the Americas.. They kept moving us over the water, stealing us away from our ghosts and ancestors, who cried salty rivers into the sand. That's where Momma was now, wailing at the water's edge, while her girls were pulled out of sight under white sails that cracked in the wind.

  Laurie Halse Anderson

  Girl, Moving, Sight

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  For me, a landscape does not exist in its own right, since its appearance changes at every moment; but the surrounding atmosphere brings it to life - the light and the air which vary continually. For me, it is only the surrounding atmosphere which gives subjects their true value.

  Claude Monet

  Life, Change, Stars

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• He had no one but himself to blame, for he’d opened himself up to it. Just a fraction at first, like a crack in a window. But the funny thing was, once you welcomed in a breeze, there was no stopping what came next. A wind, a storm, thunder and lightning, until you could no longer reach the window to close it—and didn’t really want to anyway. That’s what this new darkness was. Evil in its purest form... -Paris

  Gena Showalter

  Funny Things, Paris, Evil

  Gena Showalter (2016). “The Darkest Seduction”, p.31, HQN Books

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• At midnight the wind in the tress can sound like the ocean. The moonlight can make a road appear as endless as the sea.

  Alice Hoffman

  Ocean, Sea, Sound

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• O God, when I listen to the voices of animals, the sounds of trees, the murmurings of water, the singing of birds, the whistling of the wind, or the boom of thunder, I see in them evidence of Your unity; I feel that You are supreme power, omniscience, supreme knowledge, and supreme justice. I recognize You, O God, in the trials I am going through. May Your pleasure be my pleasure, too. May I be Your joy, the joy that a Father feels for a son. And may I think of You calmly and with determination, even when I find it hard to say I love You.

  Paulo Coelho

  Determination, Father, Love You

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• The most irrevocable of [natures] laws says that a species cannot occupy a niche that appropriates all resources--there has to be some sharing. Any species that ignores this law winds up destroying its community to support its own expansion.

  Janine Benyus

  Nature, Animal, Law

  Janine M. Benyus (2009). “Biomimicry: Innovation Inspired by Nature”, p.5, Harper Collins

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• A forest," William said, his expression distant. "Where the ground is dry soil and stone. Where tall trees grow and centuries of autumn carpet their roots. Where the wind smells of game and wildflowers." "Why, that was lovely, Lord Bill. Do you ever write poetry? Something for your blueblood lady?" "No." "She doesn't like poetry?" "Leave it." Hehe. "Oh, so you have a lady. How interes--

  Ilona Andrews

  Writing, Autumn, Expression

  Ilona Andrews (2010). “Bayou Moon”, p.55, Penguin

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• I was stirred only like a leaf in the wind, that is all. . .

  Anais Nin

  Leafs, Leaves In The Wind

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• Niall: We're tossed by the winds of fate. Once we end where they blow us, we make of ourselves that we will.

  Nora Roberts

  Fate, Blow, Ends

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