Wind Quotes - Page 19

• Other letters simply relate the small events that punctuate the passage of time: roses picked at dusk, the laziness of a rainy Sunday, a child crying himself to sleep. Capturing the moment, these small slices of life, these small gusts of happiness, move me more deeply than all the rest. A couple of lines or eight pages, a Middle Eastern stamp or a suburban postmark . . . I hoard all these letters like treasure. One day I hope to fasten them end to end in a half-mile streamer, to float in the wind like a banner raised to the glory of friendship. It will keep the vultures at bay.

  Jean-Dominique Bauby

  Children, Couple, Moving

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• So much in life depends on our attitude. The way we choose to see things and respond to others makes all the difference. To do the best we can and then to choose to be happy about our circumstances, whatever they may be, can bring peace and contentment. We can't direct the wind, but we can adjust the sails. For maximum happiness, peace, and contentment, may we choose a positive attitude.

  Thomas S. Monson

  Attitude, Differences, Contentment

  "Living the Abundant Life" by Thomas S. Monson, www.lds.org. January 2012.

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• I’m interested in what people do with the chaos in their lives and how they respond to it, and simultaneously what they do with what they feel like are limitations. If they push against these limitations, will they wind up in the realm of chaos, or will they push against limitations and wind up in the world of freedom?

  Philip Roth

  People, World, Chaos

  FaceBook post by Philip Roth from Feb 20, 2012

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• There are things you can’t reach. But You can reach out to them, and all day long. The wind, the bird flying away. The idea of god. And it can keep you busy as anything else, and happier. I look; morning to night I am never done with looking. Looking I mean not just standing around, but standing around As though with your arms open.

  Mary Oliver

  Morning, Mean, Night

  Mary Oliver (2004). “Why I Wake Early: New Poems”, p.8, Beacon Press

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• She's like a wind-up monkey that winds itself.

  Tammara Webber

  Monkeys

  Tammara Webber (2014). “Between the Lines: The Complete Series”, p.35, Tammara Webber

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• Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light.

  Ernest Hemingway

  Light, Years, Tree

  Ernest Hemingway (2014). “The Hemingway Collection”, p.3236, Simon and Schuster

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• I felt passing over me the wind of the wing of madness.

  Charles Baudelaire

  Wings, Madness, Felt

  "Selected Poems from Les Fleurs Du Mal".

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• Cold be hand and heart and bone, and cold be sleep under stone: never more to wake on stony bed, never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead. In the black wind the stars shall die, and still on gold here let them lie, till the dark lord lifts his hand over dead sea and withered land.

  J. R. R. Tolkien

  Stars, Lying, Heart

  J.R.R. Tolkien (2012). “The Fellowship of the Ring: Being the First Part of The Lord of the Rings”, p.107, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• I didn't walk over and talk to him, though, not then. If I needed the time for a tree branch to become just a tree branch again and the wind to become just the wind, then a boy, most of all, needed some time to be only a boy.

  Deb Caletti

  Boys, Tree, Branches

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• Some loves come unbidden like winds from the sea, and others grow from the seeds of friendship.

  Raymond E. Feist

  Sea, Grows, Seeds

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• So fine was the morning except for a streak of wind here and there that the sea and sky looked all one fabric, as if sails were stuck high up in the sky, or the clouds had dropped down into the sea.

  Virginia Woolf

  Morning, Clouds, Sea

  Virginia Woolf (2006). “To the Lighthouse”, p.27, OUP Oxford

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• The heavy eyelids snapped open. Jack froze. A huge gold-and-amber eye, as big as a dinner plater, stared at him. The dark pupil shrank, focusing. Jack stood very still. The colossal head turned, the scaled lip only three feet from Jack. The golden eyes gazed at him, wirling with fiery color. Jack breathed in tiny, shallow breaths. Dont blink. Don't blink... Two gusts of wind erutped from the wyvern's nostrils Jack jumped straight up, bounced off the ground into another jump, and scrambled up the nearest tree. In the clearing, Gaston bent over, guffawing like an idiot. 'It's not funny!

  Ilona Andrews

  Eye, Dark, Color

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• Rain slips through your fingers as easily as words blow away in the wind, and yet it has the power to destroy your whole world.

  Karen Maitland

  Rain, Blow, World

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• I will not go on, I thought. I won't. I will throw my soul to the wind and blow into a thousand pieces. I will wash up on a shore somewhere like bleached and broken driftwood. I will dry out in the sun until I-and any gift I ever had-shrivel into the sand.

  Janette Rallison

  Blow, Broken, Soul

  Janette Rallison (2009). “Just One Wish”, p.149, Penguin

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• In the end words are just wind.

  George R. R. Martin

  Ends

  George R. R. Martin (2003). “A Clash of Kings: A Song of Ice and Fire: Book Two”, p.23, Bantam

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• And wilt thou have me fashion into speech The love I bear thee, finding words enough, And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough, Between our faces, to cast light on each? - I dropt it at thy feet. I cannot teach My hand to hold my spirits so far off From myself--me--that I should bring thee proof In words, of love hid in me out of reach. Nay, let the silence of my womanhood Commend my woman-love to thy belief, - Seeing that I stand unwon, however wooed, And rend the garment of my life, in brief, By a most dauntless, voiceless fortitude, Lest one touch of this heart convey its grief.

  Elizabeth Barrett Browning

  Fashion, Grief, Heart

  Elizabeth Barrett Browning (2009). “Sonnets from the Portuguese”, p.18, The Floating Press

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• Ah, I could lay me down in this long grass And close my eyes, and let the quiet wind Blow over me

  Edna St. Vincent Millay

  Eye, Blow, Long Grass

  Edna St Vincent, Edna St. Vincent Millay (2013). “The Edna St. Vincent Millay Collection”, p.155, eBookIt.com

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• Through wind, and tempest, storm, and rain; The calm shall be buried inside of me; A warm stone, heavy and dry; The root, the source, a weapon against pain

  Lauren Oliver

  Pain, Rain, Roots

  Lauren Oliver (2015). “Delirium Trilogy: Delirium, Pandemonium, Requiem”, p.434, Hachette UK

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• Time seems to pass. The world happens, unrolling into moments, and you stop to glance at a spider pressed to its web. There is a quickness of light and a sense of things outlined precisely and streaks of running luster on the bay. You know more surely who you are on a strong bright day after a storm when the smallest falling leaf is stabbed with self-awareness. The wind makes a sound in the pines and the world comes into being, irreversibly, and the spider rides the wind-swayed web.

  Don DeLillo

  Running, Strong, Fall

  Don DeLillo (2011). “The Body Artist”, p.3, Pan Macmillan

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• Do you hurt uncle Kisten', he asked.(...) but Kisten beat me to it. “Only my heart, Audric,” he said. “Ms. Rachel is like the sun. See her sparkling there with the wind in her hair and fire in her eyes? You can’t catch the sun. You can only feel its touch on your face. And if you get too much of it, it burns you.

  Kim Harrison

  Hurt, Uncles, Eye

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• The old church tower and garden wall Are black with autumn rain And dreary winds foreboding call The darkness down again

  Emily Bronte

  Wall, Rain, Autumn

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• I liked the solitude and the silence of the woods and the hills. I felt there the sense of a presence, something undefined and mysterious, which was reflected in the faces of the flowers and the movements of birds and animals, in the sunlight falling through the leaves and in the sound of running water, in the wind blowing on the hills and the wide expanse of earth and sky.

  Bede Griffiths

  Running, Flower, Fall

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• I think that's what finally stopped me. I slid right to the edge. My legs were hanging over. And I could feel it too. I don't know how. There was no wind, no sound, no change of temperature. There was just this terrible emptiness reaching up for me.

  Mark Z. Danielewski

  Thinking, Reaching Up, Temperature

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• Some gave me soft words and some blunt, some made excuses, some promises, some only lied. In the end words are just wind.

  George R. R. Martin

  Promise, Blunt, Excuse

  George R. R. Martin (2003). “A Clash of Kings: A Song of Ice and Fire: Book Two”, p.23, Bantam

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• Momma said that ghosts couldn't move over water. That's why Africans got trapped in the Americas.. They kept moving us over the water, stealing us away from our ghosts and ancestors, who cried salty rivers into the sand. That's where Momma was now, wailing at the water's edge, while her girls were pulled out of sight under white sails that cracked in the wind.

  Laurie Halse Anderson

  Girl, Moving, Sight

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