Breeze Quotes - Page 13

• I fell for her in summer, my lovely summer girl, From summer she is made, my lovely summer girl, I’d love to spend a winter with my lovely summer girl, But I’m never warm enough for my lovely summer girl, It’s summer when she smiles, I’m laughing like a child, It’s the summer of our lives; we’ll contain it for a while She holds the heat, the breeze of summer in the circle of her hand I’d be happy with this summer if it’s all we ever had.

  Maggie Stiefvater

  Summer, Girl, Children

  Maggie Stiefvater (2009). “Shiver”, p.175, Scholastic Inc.

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• The crying sounded even louder out of doors. It was as if all the pain in the world had found a voice. Yet had I known such pain was in the next room, and had it been dumb, I believe—I have thought since—I could have stood it well enough. It is when suffering finds a voice and sets our nerves quivering that this pity comes troubling us. But in spite of the brilliant sunlight and the green fans of the trees waving in the soothing sea-breeze, the world was a confusion, blurred with drifting black and red phantasms, until I was out of earshot of the house in the stone wall.

  H. G. Wells

  Fear, Wall, Pain

  H. G. Wells (2015). “The Island of Dr. Moreau”, p.36, Booklassic

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• Breeze turned to look out the window. "You were always the best of us, Sazed," he said quietly. "Because you believed in something.

  Brandon Sanderson

  Looks, Window, Said

  Brandon Sanderson (2008). “The Hero of Ages: Book Three of Mistborn”, p.42, Macmillan

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• In the pathway of the sun, In the footsteps of the breeze, Where the world and sky are one, He shall ride the silver seas, He shall cut the glittering wave. I shall sit at home, and rock; Rise, to heed a neighbor's knock; Brew my tea, and snip my thread; Bleach the linen for my bed. They will call him brave.

  Dorothy Parker

  Home, Cutting, Rocks

  Dorothy Parker (1944). “Dorothy Parker”

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• I'd loved in so many bodies, but never one I loved like this. Never one that I craved in this way. Of course, this would be the one I'd have to give up. The irony made me laugh, and I concentrated on the feel of the air that popped in little bubbles from my chest and up through my throat. Laughter was like a fresh breeze - it cleaned its way through the body, making everything feel good. Did other species have such a simple healer? I couldn't remember one.

  Stephenie Meyer

  Laughter, Giving Up, Simple

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• I guess I felt attached to my weakness. My pain and suffering too. Summer light, the smell of a breeze, the sound of cicadas - if I like these things, why should I apologize?

  Haruki Murakami

  Summer, Pain, Light

  "A Wild Sheep Chase". Book by Haruki Murakami, 1982.

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• She was the breeze on a summer's day, the first drops of rain when the earth was parched, light from the evening star.

  Kate Morton

  Summer, Stars, Rain

  Kate Morton (2011). “The Distant Hours: A Novel”, p.422, Simon and Schuster

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• Picture a tall, dark figure, surrounded by cornfields... NO, YOU CAN'T RIDE A CAT. WHO EVER HEARD OF THE DEATH OF RATS RIDING A CAT? THE DEATH OF RATS WOULD RIDE SOME KIND OF DOG. Picture more fields, a great horizon-spanning network of fields, rolling in gentle waves... DON'T ASK ME I DON'T KNOW. SOME KIND OF TERRIER, MAYBE. ...fields of corn, alive, whispering in the breeze... RIGHT, AND THE DEATH OF FLEAS CAN RIDE IT TOO. THAT WAY YOU KILL TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE. ...awaiting the clockwork of the seasons. METAPHORICALLY.

  Terry Pratchett

  Dog, Cat, Dark

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• But the truth, he knows, is otherwise. His pleasure in living has been snuffed out. Like a leaf on a stream, like a puffball on a breeze, he has begun to float towards his end. He sees it quite clearly, and it fills him with (the word will not go away) despair. The blood of life is leaving his body and despair is taking its place, despair that is like a gas, odourless, tasteless, without nourishment. You breathe it in, your limbs relax, you cease to care, even at the moment when the steel touches your throat.

  J. M. Coetzee

  Blood, Leaving, Despair

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• Hour of Stars (1920) The round silence of night, one note on the stave of the infinite. Ripe with lost poems, I step naked into the street. The blackness riddled by the singing of crickets: sound, that dead will-o'-the-wisp, that musical light perceived by the spirit. A thousand butterfly skeletons sleep within my walls. A wild crowd of young breezes over the river.

  Federico Garcia Lorca

  Stars, Wall, Butterfly

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• He removed several pages of death certificates, which were picked up by another breeze and sent into the trees. Some would fall with the leaves that September. Some would fall with the trees generations later.

  Jonathan Safran Foer

  Fall, Tree, Generations

  Jonathan Safran Foer (2013). “Everything Is Illuminated”, p.12, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• Chance will not do the work. Chance sends the breeze;
  But if the pilot slumber at the helm,
  The very wind that wafts us tow'rds the port
  May dash us on the shoals. The steersman's part
  Is vigilance, or blow it rough or smooth.

  Ben Jonson

  Blow, Wind, Slumber

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• The night is dark, the waters deep,
  Yet soft the billows roll;
  Alas! at every breeze I weep —
  The storm is in my soul.

  Helen Maria Williams

  Dark, Night, Water

  Helen Maria Williams (1791). “Poems”, p.71

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• We're merely one tree with various types, shapes and sizes of leaves that all wave differently in the breeze.

  Rasheed Ogunlaru

  Tree, Shapes, Size

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• I will come back as a little breeze. You will feel me on your face, and you will know that I am still listening. So you can still talk to me.

  Elizabeth Berg

  Life, Listening, Littles

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• And I learned what is obvious to a child. That life is simply a collection of little lives, each lived one day at a time. That each day should be spent finding beauty in flowers and poetry and talking to animals. That a day spent with dreaming and sunsets and refreshing breezes cannot be bettered. But most of all, I learned that life is about sitting on benches next to ancient creeks with my hand on her knee and sometimes, on good days, for falling in love.

  Nicholas Sparks

  Life, Dream, Falling In Love

  FaceBook post by Nicholas Sparks from Sep 22, 2011

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• When I go biking, I repeat a mantra of the day's sensations: bright sun, blue sky, warm breeze, blue jay's call, ice melting and so on. This helps me transcend the traffic, ignore the clamorings of work, leave all the mind theaters behind and focus on nature instead. I still must abide by the rules of the road, of biking, of gravity. But I am mentally far away from civilization. The world is breaking someone else's heart.

  Diane Ackerman

  Heart, Blue, Ice

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• When the waters of a lake are absolutely still, the lake reflects the trees, the sky, and everything around it perfectly. At the slightest breeze, with the smallest ripple in the waters, the lake reflects nothing but itself. To see another with clarity and objectivity, one first must master stillness. The slightest breeze of judgment or interpretation from the rational mind will create a ripple that shatters Awareness and returns us to ordinary perception.

  Alberto Villoldo

  Lakes, Objectivity, Sky

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• Fly fishing is not about catching the fish. It is about enjoying the water, the breeze, the fish swimming all around. If you catch one, good. If you don't...that is even better. That mean you come out and get to try all over again.

  Clare Vanderpool

  Mean, Swimming, Fishing

  Clare Vanderpool (2013). “Navigating Early”, p.175, Delacorte Books for Young Readers

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• Why can't we resist the urge to second-guess and evaluate each other?...Sometimes I wonder if the final judgment will be a breeze compared with what we've put each other through here on earth. p 225

  Sheri L. Dew

  Finals, Earth, Sometimes

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• Willows whiten, aspens quiver, little breezes dusk and shiver, thro' the wave that runs forever by the island in the river, flowing down to Camelot. Four gray walls and four gray towers, overlook a space of flowers, and the silent isle imbowers, the Lady of Shalott.

  Alfred Lord Tennyson

  Running, Wall, Flower

  Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Professor Norman Page (2013). “Tennyson: Selected Poetry”, p.20, Routledge

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• What of miniature boats constructed of birch bark and fallen leaves, launched onto cold water clear as air? How many fleets were pushed out toward the middles of ponds or sent down autumn brooks, holding treasures of acorns, or black feathers, or a puzzled mantis? Let those grassy crafts be listed alongside the iron hulls that cleave the sea, for they are all improvisations built from the daydreams of men, and all will perish, whether from the ocean siege or October breeze.

  Paul Harding

  Ocean, Autumn, Men

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• I culled poetry from odors, sounds, faces, and ordinary events occurring around me. Breezes bulged me as if I were cloth; sounds nicked their marks on my nerves; objects made impressions on my sight as if in clay. There, in the soft language, life centered and ground itself in me and I was flowing with the grain of the universe. Language placed my life experiences in a new context, freeing me for the moment to become with air as air, with clouds as clouds, from which new associations arose to engage me in present life in a more purposeful way.

  Jimmy Santiago Baca

  Clouds, Sight, Air

  30 Copy quote

• I talk alot about death so I should do it soon... Maybe under the cold breeze of a bluish moon

  Vinnie Paz

  Moon, Cold, Should

  85 Copy quote

• Every forest branch moves differently in the breeze,
  but as they sway they connect at the roots.

  Rumi

  Moving, Roots, Branches

  40 Copy quote