Wind Quotes - Page 67

Draw places you have seen from memory. I used to paint things I had glimpsed through windows while riding in the elevated train.

An easterly is the most disagreeable wind in Lyme Bay — Lyme Bay being that largest bite from the underside of England's outstretched southwestern leg — and a person of curiosity could at once have deduced several strong probabilities about the pair who began to walk down the quay at Lyme Regis, the small but ancient eponym of the inbite, one incisively sharp and blustery morning in the late March of 1867.

Unconditional war can no longer lead to unconditional victory. It can no longer serve to settle disputes. It can no longer concern the Great Powers alone. For a nuclear disaster, spread by wind and water and fear, could well engulf the great and the small, the rich and the poor, the committed and the uncommitted alike. Mankind must put an end to war--or war will put an end to mankind.

The winds that never moderation knew, Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew; Or out of breath with joy, could not enlarge Their straighten'd lungs or conscious of their charge.

How easy 'tis, when Destiny proves kind, With full-spread sails to run before the wind!

The fuel in the earth will be exhausted in a thousand or more years, and its mineral wealth, but man will find substitutes for these in the winds, the waves, the sun's heat, and so forth.

Some of what these pamphlets [of astrological forecasts] say will turn out to be true, but most of it time and experience will expose as empty and worthless. The latter part will be forgotten literally: written on the winds while the former will be carefully entered in people's memories, as is usual with the crowd.

Close a door, and you'd still feel a breeze through the window.

Primeval forests! virgin sod! That Saxon has not ravish'd yet, Lo! peak on peak in stairways set- In stepping stairs that reach to God! Here we are free as sea or wind, For here are set Time's snowy tents In everlasting battlements Against the march of Saxon mind.

It's very far away, it takes about a half and a day to get there, if we travel by my... dragon-fly. No, it's not in Spain, but all the same, you know, it's a groovy name. And the wind's just right... Hang on, my darling, hang on if you wanna go. Hear it's a really groovy place, with just a little bit Spanish Castle Magic.

Too often, Indian tribes are at the mercy of the shifting political winds of State government.

Like a feather in a dust storm, with no direction The Raven flies through life, helpless and omitted Until night declares and the wind expires. Then it flies to the land of stones and etchings And becomes an Ember, breaking away

I was a girl from Massapequa, New York. I grew up in Massapequa. I lived in a basement with one window.

In no instance is there to be a musical or opera of Inherit the Wind because it doesn't sing. It's an intellectual play.

Sharing a bit of yourself, opening a window into your own world, is a good place to begin.

When God closes a door, he opens a window, but it's up to you to find it.

However, the wind only changes the picture temporarily, the substrate remains the same and sooner or later the same picture surfaces once again.

A person who can break wind is not dead.

If death is this brilliant slide, this high, fine music felt as pure vibration, this plunging float in wind and silence, it's not so bad.

Your website is the window of your business. Keep it fresh, keep it exciting.

Oleander time, she said. Lovers who kill each other now will blame it on the wind.

I wanted to hear what she was saying. I wanted to smell that burnt midnight again, I wanted to feel that wind. It was a secret wanting, like a song I couldn't stop humming, or loving someone I could never have. No matter where I went, my compass pointed west. I would always know what time it was in California.

I'm not gonna box Ruiz...I don't box, I knock holes through people. I'm gonna cut Ruiz up. I'm gonna butcher him. He ain't gonna last five rounds. Either he winds up on the canvas or in the hospital. It's his choice.

A woman is a branchy tree and man a singing wind; and from her branches carelessly he takes what he can find.

A lot of writers fall in love with their sentences or their construction of sentences, and sometimes that's great, but not everybody is Gabriel Garcia Marquez or James Joyce. A lot of people like to pretend that they are, and they wind up not giving people a good read or enlightening them.