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Wind Quotes

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Wind Quotes

“For this is the truth about our soul, he thought, who fish-like inhabits deep seas and plies among obscurities threading her way between the boles of giant weeds, over sun-flickered spaces and on and on into gloom, cold, deep, inscrutable; suddenly she shoots to the surface and sports on the wind-wrinkled waves; that is, has a positive need to brush, scrape, kindle herself, gossiping.”

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Book:Mrs Dalloway
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“(Speaking of the Cistercian monks) A grim fraternity, passing grim lives in that sweet spot, that God had made so bright! Strange that Nature's voices all around them--the soft singing of the waters, the wisperings of the river grass, the music of the rushing wind--should not have taught them a truer meaning of life than this. They listened there, through the long days, in silence, waiting for a voice from heaven; and all day long and through the solemn night it spoke to them in myriad tones, and they heard it not.”

ShouldLongMadeNightHeavenWaitingVoiceWaterSilenceHeardTaughtStrangeSweetWindSingingRiversPassingPassingsSpotsGrassToneMeaning Of LifeSpokesMonkSolemnGrimRushingFraternityLong Day
Author:Jerome K. Jerome
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“Before reaching the final line, however, he had already understood that he would never leave that room, for it was foreseen that the city of mirrors (or mirages) would be wiped out by the wind and exiled from the memory of men at the precise moment when Aureliano Babilonia would finish deciphering the parchments, and that everything written on them was unrepeatable since time immemorial and forever more, because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth.”

MenYearsMomentsWould BeEarthOpportunityLinesMemoriesRoomsRaceCitiesForeverWrittenWindSolitudeUnderstoodHundredMirrorsFinalsReachingPreciseMiragesForeseenOne Hundred Years Of Solitude
Author:Gabriel Garcia Marquez
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“Well, this is a story about books." About books?" About accursed books, about a man who wrote them, about a character who broke out of the pages of anovel so that he could burn it, about a betrayal and a lost friendship. It's a story of love, of hatred, and of the dreams that live in the shadow of the wind." You talk like the jacket blurb of a Victorian novel, Daniel." That's probably because I work in a bookshop and I've seen too many. But this is a true story.”

MenWellsBookCharacterStoriesDreamLostNovelWindPagesShadowHatredBetrayalBrokeJacketsTrue StoryVictorianLost FriendshipBookshopsShadow Of The Wind
Book:The Shadow Of The Wind
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“Clambering up the Cold Mountain path, The Cold Mountain trail goes on and on: The long gorge choked with scree and boulders, The wide creek, the mist-blurred grass. The moss is slippery, though there's been no rain The pine sings, but there's no wind. Who can leap the world's ties And sit with me among the white clouds?”

WorldLongWhitePathWindGoes OnColdMountainRainCloudsWideGrassTiesLeapTrailsMistSlipperyMossCreeksBouldersGorgesCold MountainWhite Clouds
Book:Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems
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“We reap what we sow. We are the makers of our own fate. The wind is blowing; those vessels whose sails are unfurled catch it, and go forward on their way, but those which have their sails furled do not catch the wind. Is that the fault of the wind?....... We make our own destiny.”

WayInspirationalInspiringDestinyFateWindFaultsMakersSailVesselReap
Book:What Religion is: In the Words of Swami Vivekananda
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“True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his side to the dew-dropping south.”

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Book:The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare
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“As I raced out of the office, I could hear Emily rapid-fire dialing four-digit extensions and all but screaming, 'She's on her way-- tell everyone.' It took me only three seconds to wind through the hallways and pass through the fashion department, but I had already heard panicked cries of 'Emily said she's on her way in' and 'Miranda's coming!' and a particularly blood curdling cry of 'She's baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!”

WaySaidThreeFireFourHeardBloodFashionCryWindOfficeDepartmentSecondsExtensionsRapidsEmilyHallwaysMiranda
Book:The Devil Wears Prada
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“He lay listening to the water drip in the woods. Bedrock, this. The cold and the silence. The ashes of the late world carried on the bleak and temporal winds to and fro in the void. Carried forth and scattered and carried forth again. Everything uncoupled from its shoring. Unsupported in the ashen air. Sustained by a breath, trembling and brief. If only my heart were stone.”

IfsWorldHeartWaterSilenceAirWindListeningColdMy HeartLateStonesBreathsLaysWoodsVoidAshesTremblingBleakBedrock
Book:The Road
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“You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.”

StrongSeaWindStormFlyingAll AloneGulls
Book:Greatest Christmas Novels in One Volume: Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, Heidi, The Romance of a Christmas Card, The Little City of Hope, The Wonderful Life, Little Women, Anne of Green Gables, Little Lord Fauntleroy, Peter Pan…
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“You must know the story of how the race of ancient days reached the stars, and how they bargained away all the wild half of themselves to do so, so that they no longer cared for the taste of the pale wind, no for love or lust, nor to make new songs nor to sing old ones, nor for any of the other animal things they believed they had brought with them out of the rain forests al the bottom of time--though in fact, so my uncle told me, those things brought them”

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Book:Sword & Citadel: The Second Half of 'The Book of the New Sun'
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“With you a part of me hath passed away; For in the peopled forest of my mind A tree made leafless by this wintry wind Shall never don again its green array. Chapel and fireside, country road and bay, Have something of their friendliness resigned; Another, if I would, I could not find, And I am grown much older in a day. But yet I treasure in my memory Your gift of charity, and young hearts ease, And the dear honour of your amity; For these once mine, my life is rich with these. And I scarce know which part may greater be,-- What I keep of you, or you rob from me.”

IfsKnowsMindHeartMayMadeCountryYoungLife IsMemoriesRichGreaterTreeMinesWindGreenCharityDearTreasureForestsEaseHonourScarceOf My MindPassed AwayResignedFriendlinessChapelAmityYoung At HeartCountry Roads
Book:The Essential Santayana: Selected Writings
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“Thunder rumbled. My heart beat faster. I turned away from Evernight for the last time and looked back at the flower as it trembled upon its branch. A single petal was torn away by the wind. Pushing my hands through the thorns, I felt lashes of pain across my skin, but i kept going determined. But when my fingertip touched the flower, it instantly darkened, withering and drying as each petal turned black.”

HeartHandsPainLastsFeltBlackWindFlowerMy HeartBeatsSkinsDeterminedFasterBranchesTouchedPushingLast TimeTornThunderThornsPetalsLashesFingertipsHeart BeatWithering
Book:Evernight (Evernight, Book 1)
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“When forced to leave my house for an extended period of time, I take my typewriter with me, and together we endure the wretchedness of passing through the X-ray scanner. The laptops roll merrily down the belt, while I’m instructed to stand aside and open my bag. To me it seems like a normal enough thing to be carrying, but the typewriter’s declining popularity arouses suspicion and I wind up eliciting the sort of reaction one might expect when traveling with a cannon. It’s a typewriter,’ I say. ‘You use it to write angry letters to airport security.”

WritingEnoughUseSeemsMightTogetherHouseSecurityWindPeriodsNormalLettersAngryEndureReactionsPassingPassingsBagsRaysSuspicionPopularityAirportsBeltsTypewritersLaptopsCannonsPassing ThroughWretchednessAirport Security
Book:Me Talk Pretty One Day
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“..she began to stand around the gate and expect things. What things? She didn't know exactly. Her breath was gusty and short. She knew things that nobody ever told her. For instance, the words of the trees and the wind. .. She knew the world was a stallion rolling in the blue pasture of ether. She knew that God tore down the old world every evening and built a new one by sun-up. It was wonderful to see it take form with the sun and emerge from the gray dust of its making.”

KnowsWorldFormSunWonderfulTreeWindBuiltBreathsBlueInstanceDustEveningGatesGrayRollingOld WorldPasturesStallions
Author:Zora Neale Hurston
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“If you come as softly As wind within the trees You may hear what I hear See what sorrow sees. If you come as lightly As threading dew I will take you gladly Nor ask more of you. You may sit beside me Silent as a breath Only those who stay dead Shall remember death. And if you come I will be silent Nor speak harsh words to you. I will not ask you why, now. Or how, or what you do. We shall sit here, softly Beneath two different years And the rich earth between us Shall drink our tears.”

IfsYearsMayTwoDifferentEarthRememberAsksSpeakRichTreeTearsWindSorrowDrinkBreathsSilentHarshDewHarsh WordsWhy Now
Book:The Collected Poems of Audre Lorde
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“Why do you think great leaders and great orations are coincident with wars, revolutions, and the founding or ending of governments and states? Common interests then are so clear that speeches are effortlessly drawn, but at present neither the facts nor the consequences are sufficiently clear to make oratory legitimate. This is the kind of war that will wind on and make fools of its partisans and opponents both.”

ThinkingKindWarStatesFactsGovernmentInterestCommonLeaderClearWindRevolutionFoolSpeechConsequenceOpponentsFoundingGreat LeaderPartisansOratoryCommon Interests
Book:A Soldier of the Great War
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“February. Get ink, shed tears. Write of it, sob your heart out, sing, While torrential slush that roars Burns in the blackness of the spring. Go hire a buggy. For six grivnas, Race through the noice of bells and wheels To where the ink and all you grieving Are muffled when the rainshower falls. To where, like pears burnt black as charcoal, A myriad rooks, plucked from the trees, Fall down into the puddles, hurl Dry sadness deep into the eyes. Below, the wet black earth shows through, With sudden cries the wind is pitted, The more haphazard, the more true The poetry that sobs its heart out.”

WritingHeartShowsEyeEarthFallBlackRaceTreeSadnessCryTearsWindSixSpringGrievingDryWheelsBellsWetShedInkFalling DownBlacknessFebruaryPuddlesPearsCharcoalHaphazardSlush
Author:Boris Pasternak
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“The monstropolous beast had left his bed. The two hundred miles a hour wind had loosed his chains. He seized hold of his dikes and ran forward until he met the quarters; uprooted them like grass and rushed on after his supposed-to-be conquerors, rolling the dikes, rolling the houses, rolling the people in the houses along with other timbers. The sea was walking the earth with a heavy heel.”

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Book:Zora Neale Hurston: Novels and Stories: Jonah's Gourd Vine / Their Eyes Were Watching God / Moses, Man of the Mountain / Seraph on the Suwanee / Selected Stories
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