Tears of joy are like the summer rain drops pierced by sunbeams.
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
The drops of rain make a hole in the stone not by violence but by oft falling.
The way I see it, if you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
The hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain.
It is not raining to me, It's raining daffodils; In every dimpled drop I see Wild flowers on distant hills.
No individual rain drop ever considers itself responsible for the flood.
Hark! the hours are softly calling Bidding Spring arise To listen to the rain-drops falling From the cloudy skies To listen to Earth’s weary voices Louder every day Bidding her no longer linger On her charm’d way But hasten to her task of beauty Scarcely yet begun.
Every dew-drop and rain-drop had a whole heaven within it.
Suddenly all the sky is hid As with the shutting of a lid, One by one great drops are falling Doubtful and slow, Down the pane they are crookedly crawling, And the wind breathes low; Slowly the circles widen on the river, Widen and mingle, one and all; Here and there the slenderer flowers shiver, Struck by an icy rain-drop’s fall.
There's divinity within because we come from the divine, A force that's not seen, but you feel it every time: When the wind blows, and the world turns, And the rain drops, and the baby cries, And the bird flies, and the ground quake, And the stars gleam.
When April steps aside for May, Like diamonds all the rain-drops glisten; Fresh violets open every day: To some new bird each hour we listen.
O my heart! Love God as the chatrik loves the rain drops, Who even when fountains are full and the land green, Is not satisfied as long as it cannot get a drop of rain.
I like to think that when I fall, A rain-drop in Death's shoreless sea, This shelf of books along the wall, Beside my bed, will mourn for me.
I inhale loneliness like it is the sweet smell of virgin earth conquered by fiery rain drops. Within me, I'm a thousand others.
The water-lily, in the midst of waters, opens its leaves and expands its petals, at the first pattering of the shower, and rejoices in the rain-drops with a quicker sympathy than the packed shrubs in the sandy desert.
Life is like a rain drop on a lotus leaf. Everybody realises that you're either very lucky person or you're not.
People will never understand the patience a photographer requires to make a great photograph, all they see is the end result. I can stand in front of a leaf with a dew drop, or a rain drop, and stay there for ages just waiting for the right moment. Sure, people think I'm crazy, but who cares? I see more than they do!
or simply:
