Clouds come floating into my life from other days no longer to shed rain or usher storm but to give colour to my sunset sky.— Rabindranath Tagore
Promising Winter Rain quotations
Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, But Lust's effect is tempest after sun; Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done; Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies; Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies.
In summer winter rain or sun, it's good to be on horseback.
A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things.
Are the days of winter sunshine just as sad for you, too? When it is misty, in the evenings, and I am out walking by myself, it seems to me that the rain is falling through my heart and causing it to crumble into ruins.
She enjoys rain for its wetness, winter for its cold, summer for its heat.
She loves rainbows as much for fading as for their brilliance. It is easy for her, she opens her heart and accepts everything.
An Indian's dress of deer skins, which is wet a hundred times upon his back, dries soft; and his lodge also, which stands in the rains, and even through the severity of winter, is taken down as soft and as clean as when it was first put up.
October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy drafts that bit at exposed hands and faces.
The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches.
... the world can give you these glimpses as well as fairy tales can--the smell of rain, the dazzle of sun on white clapboard with the shadows of ferns and wash on the line, the wildness of a winter storm when in the house the flame of a candle doesn't even flicker.
The indescribable innocence of and beneficence of Nature,-of sun and wind and rain, of summer and winter,-such health, such cheer, they afford forever!
When the hounds of Spring are on winter's traces, The mother of months in meadow or plain Fills the shadows and windy places With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain.
All things with which we deal preach to us.
What is a farm but a mute gospel? The chaff and the wheat, weeds and plants, blight, rain, insects, sun,--it is a sacred emblem from the first furrow of spring to the last stack which the snow of winter overtakes in the fields.
Bears, dragons, tempestuous on mountain and river, Startle the forest and make the heights tremble. Clouds darken beneath the darkness of rain, streams pale with a pallor of mist. The gods of Thunder and Lightning Shatter the whole range.
In winter, when the dismal rain Comes down in slanting lines, And Wind, that grand old harper, smote His thunder-harp of pines.
Winter hurled more wind and rain at the city than it ever had before.
Clouds dashed about in all directions emptying their thunder, hail and rain. The horizon was choked in fog.
Learn to love the sunrise and sunset, the beating of rain on the roof and windows, and the gentle fall of snow on a winter day.
For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.
Although farming of any sort was almost as impossible in the plains as in the dry regions of winter rains farther west, the abundance of buffaloes made life much easier in many respects.
Out alone in the winter rain, / Intent on giving and taking pain.
Rain-diamonds, this winter morning, embellish the tangle of unpruned pear-tree twigs; each solitaire, placed, it appears, with considered judgement, bears the light beneath the rifted clouds - the invisible shared out in endless abundance.
There is nothing more energizing than inhaling the tang of wilderness, loamy after rain, pungent with the richness of earth shuddering with life, or taking in the brisk dry cleanness of winter.
Every day, I walk with my dog - summer, winter (it gets -20 F in Saint Paul), rain or shine. The nicer the day, of course, the longer the walk.
We loiter in winter while it is already spring.
During a warm winter rain ... the basins of her collarbones collected water.
Divinity must live within herself: Passions of rain, or moods in the falling snow; Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued Elations when the forest blooms; gusty Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights; All pleasures and all pains, remembering The boughs of summer and the winter branch. These are the measures destined for her soul.
Winter always turns into Spring.
It blows a snowing gale in the winter of the year;
The boats are on the sea and the crews are on the pier.The needle of the vane, it is veering to and fro,A flash of sun is on the veering of the vane.Autumn leaves and rain,The passion of the gale.
The seasons are shifting, The winter shades lifting,The springtime is fillingEarth's children with mirth.The daffodil yellow, The south wind so mellow,The gentle rain falling,Upon the green earth.The song sparrow singing, New life quickly springing,All nature is tellingA tale of rebirth:The deep wells of being, Beyond each day's seeing,O'er flowing with new Life,Restoring the earth.
For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land.
For winter's rains and ruins are over, And all the seasons of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,The light that loses, the night that wins;And time remembered is grief forgotten,And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,And in green underwood and coverBlossom by blossom the spring begins.
Our journey so far has been very satisfactory: we are most fortunate as regards the season, for there has been more rain this winter than has been known for the last four or five years.
Have you ever noticed the perfection of nature? The seasons and how one changes into the next, the falling leaves, composting soil, rains, new seedlings, sunshine, growth, blossoms, etc. Grass grows, deer eats grass, lion eats deer, deer population is stabilized so there is grass for other animals; sunrise and sunset, boy and girl, winter and summer.
Be praised for all Your tenderness by these works of Your hands, suns that rise and rains that fall to bless and bring to life Your land. Look down upon this winter wheat and be glad that You have made blue for the sky and the color green that fills Your fields with praise.
Sometimes I go outside after a long stretch of writing and I'm surprised it's not raining. Or that it's daylight. Or that it's not the middle of winter. I don't know if that level of immersion is normal, but it's now I do things. I like it. It works well for me.