Rain Quotes
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The Awa are a distinctive-looking, diminutive forest people, smaller than any of the dozen other Amazon tribespeople I have met. Reduced size is adaptive in a rain forest. You can move around more easily and unobtrusively. Not only humans but other species are smaller in rain forests.
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House-training, I must tell you, is a formality that can elude young dachshunds for some time; this is particularly true in climates that affront their sensibilities with outrageous meteorological insults. Rain, for example, or a startling gust of wind.
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Sept. 6th, 1822, looking S.E. – 12 to 1 o'clock, fresh and bright, between showers – much the look of rain all the morning, but very fine and grand all the afternoon and evening.
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Fare well we call to hearth and hall Though wind may blow and rain may fall We must away ere break of day Over the wood and mountain tall To Rivendell where Elves yet dwell In glades beneath the misty fell Through moor and waste we ride in haste And wither then we cannot tell With foes ahead behind us dread Beneath the sky shall be our bed Until at last our toil be sped Our journey done, our errand sped We must away! We must away! We ride before the break of day!
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Rain! whose soft architectural hands have power to cut stones, and chisel to shapes of grandeur the very mountains.
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I'd love to paint our roof white - it's so hot down here in Texas! - and I'd love to have a rainwater collection system to save rain runoff for later. I also love to fantasize about keeping chickens in the backyard.
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We mainly shot 'Cartel Land' with the Canon C300. The camera was dropped, smashed, hit by guns, in dust storms, torrential rain, and it never, ever failed.
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When I was a kid, being outside was the norm. Rain or shine, our parents would tell us to get out of the house.
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He can't remeber who he is or where he lives." "Well that's convenient." "Not when it rains.
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That night it did not rain as much in the sky as it did in his heart.
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Heaven has its business and earth has its business: those are two separate things. Heaven, that's the angels' pasture; they are happy; they don't have to fret about food and drink. And you can be sure that they have black angels to do the heavy work like laundering the clouds or sweeping the rain and cleaning the sun after a storm, while the white angels sing like nightingales all day long or blow in those little trumpets like they show in the pictures we see in church.
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No person has the right to rain on your dreams.
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I've seen attack ships on fire on the shoulder of Orion, I've seen moon beams glisten at the Ten hauser gate, all those memories, lost like tears in the rain.
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The rain does not fall in a certain land only; the sun does not shine only on a particular country. All that comes from God is for all souls. Verily, blessing is for every soul; for every soul, whatever be one's faith or belief, belongs to God.
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A house built on granite and strong foundations, not even the onslaught of pouring rain, gushing torrents and strong winds will be able to pull down.
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From sunny woof and cloudy weft Fell rain in sheets; so, to myself I hummed these hazard rhymes, and left The learned volume on the shelf.
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Don’t always want to go up. Go down, like water, because eventually it’ll go up again. Just like rain, it falls from the sky, flows as a river, then merges with the sea, the goes up again as a cloud.
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A little tap at the window, as though some missile had struck it, followed by a plentiful, falling sound, as light, though, as if a shower of sand were being sprinkled from a window overhead; then the fall spread, took on an order, a rhythm, became liquid, loud, drumming, musical, innumerable, universal. It was the rain.
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In cold and heat, in rain and wind, the soul united to God says, "I want it to be warm, to be cold, windy, to rain, because God wills it."
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Nobody wants to say, at least not for publication, that we live in a society that cares as much about the humanities as it cares about the color of the rain in Tashkent.
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When I'm lost in the rain, In your eyes I know I'll find the light to light my way And when I'm scared, losing ground When my world is going crazy You can turn it all around and when I'm down you're there Pushing me to the top You're always there, giving me all you've got
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(and from my thighs which shrug and pant a murdering rain leapingly reaches the upward singular deepest flower which she carries in a gesture of her hips)
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Who told you you're allowed to rain on my parade?
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Having rain on your tuxedo is a pretty good reminder that you're not James Bond.
