Rain Quotes - Page 4

Please stop shaking your rain water in my direction. What next? Are you going to come over here, cock your leg and urinate upon my person?

Rain is rain.

A person does not have to be beautiful for you to find them beautiful. That's what love is all about.

By the sandy water I breathe in the odor of the sea,From there the wind comes and blows over the world,By the sandy water I breathe in the odor of the sea,From there the clouds come and rain falls over the world.

All is as if the world did cease to exist. The city's monuments go unseen, its past unheard, and its culture slowly fading in the dismal sea.

If wool shrinks when you wash it, why don't sheep get smaller when it rains?

The reason why some of us love when it rain is because it fills in the faults of our broken hearts and makes us feel complete, even if it is temporary.

onceI heard her huskylaughter pour out likerain after a drought

I need grit and struggle and Los Angeles is terribly nice, but people, once they get there, cease to be real. Constant and repetitive fulfillment is not good for the human spirit. We all need rain and good old depression. Life can't be all beer and skittles.

Roy: "Looks like it's starting to rain"Riza: "But..It's not raining..."Roy: "Yes it is. This is the rain.

The UmbrellaIon Bulbuk has bought an umbrella. “Knock-knock” – it is a neighbour at the door. “It is going to rain, Ion. Give me your umbrella, please.”“It is not in the house,” lied Bulbuk. It rains…Bulbuk is walking wet in the yard, for the neighbour to see that the umbrella is not at home. But the neighbour is not watching. He went in the village for his business.

You have the touch of nature you know, where she touches everything that is dead and they spring back into life again. I realised that the day you touched me for the first time. I felt I was standing somewhere I had never been before and all of a sudden life started pouring over me like a rain and drenching me with it. I had never felt that alive before.

I can’t help but ask, “Do you know where you are?”She turns to me with a foreboding glare. “Do you?

The mist after rain, uninterrupted rainfall on rooftops, pitter-patter intellect. The thoughts I leave behind like footsteps.

Where does one run to escape from feelings?

Ithink that theworld should be full of cats and full of rain, that's all, justcats andrain, rain and cats, very nice, goodnight.

Nana always said the rain was Nature's way of adding sparkle to the outdoors.

Don't normal people run in the rain? Even abnormal people, most of them anyway, the only people I can think of who walk in the rain are tree buffers, bag ladies, and total psychos.

Under the bridge, traffic above us and coats around us, hearts thudding with the steady perfection of this moment, I thought of every word I had never before dared to think about him.Future. Hope.And love, as the rain slowed to a misty trickle through the long and beautiful night.

sometimes i don't know, which momentwhich cool gust of wind will come,and enchant metousling my hairand my heart, stirring...that familiar ache of poetry, which drop will kissthe old wrench in my soulreminding me, all over againi miss you better in the rain.

The English play hockey in any weather. Thunder, lightening, plague of locusts...nothing can stop the hockey. Do not fight the hockey, for the hockey will win.

I know your eyes in the morning sunI feel you touch me in the pouring rainAnd the moment that you wander far from meI wanna feel you in my arms again

I want you to know how perfectyour body looks after a shower.Fresh.Covered in little dropsof water.Just like dewy grass aftera night of rainfall.

..if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was ahurricane.

Rain in the Northwest is not the pounding, flashing performance enjoyed by the eastern part of the nation. Nor is it the festive annual soaking I'd been used to in Southern California. Rather, it's a seven-month drizzle that darkens the sky, mildews the bath towels, and propels those already prone to depression into the dim comforts of antihistamines and a flask.

Rainbow of happiness is the byproduct of your inner sunshine, after the rain of sorrows.

I look out of the window again. The rain is trickling down silently, evenly, like the tears that cover my face. Perhaps God is in the water, in the raindrops. I put my hand against the cold pane to be close to Him. To be as close as I can without imposing.

Rain, rain falling downDown, down on the goundAll the birds go in the treesThey don't like the rain, you see.

These were the rains that drove people close to the walls, under the balconies, or sent them dashing madly through the squares, and drenched the fluttering ribbons and bright trappings of the horses so that their flanks were streaked with delicate watercolors. The storms washed the streets so that little streams of brown water went roaring along the gutters toward the sea, and thundered on the roofs of the cafés where people were crowded together laughing in the steam and half darkness. I loved those rains; they were of the sort that is welcomed by everyone, preceded by hot, oppressive hours of stillness; they came the way storms come in the islands but did not last as long, and often the sun came out when they had passed. I was happy whenever the rain caught me walking about in the streets, for then I would rush into the nearest café, along with all the others who were escaping from the weather, all of us crushing laughing through the doors. The rain allowed me to go anywhere, to form quick, casual friendships, forced to share one of the overcrowded tables, among the beaming waiters who pushed good-naturedly through the throngs carrying cups of steaming apple cider.

I love walking in the rain because no one can see me crying

The rain keeps starting and stopping like an anxious lover who doesn’t know if he should spend the night.

The air was warm and heavy as sprinkles began to fall from the clouds high above. The Triton glided through the waters and the whoosh of the ship combined with the steady beat of the rain to make a concerto, like a pianist fluttering his fingers on the keys at one end and running his fingers up and down the scales at the other. Expectancy hung in the air as the tune moved to a crescendo.

My point is that this Potter business has legs. It will run and run, and we must be utterly mad, as a country, to leave it to the Americans to make money from a great British invention. I appeal to the children of this country and to their Potter-fiend parents to write to Warner Bros and Universal, and perhaps, even, to the great J K herself. Bring Harry home to Britain—and if you want a site with less rainfall than Rome, with excellent public transport, and strong connections to Harry Potter, I have just the place.

A sense of hopelessness had invaded his bones, as chill and as inescapable as the rain.

No rain but thunder, and the sound of giants.

Instead of blue skies and sunshine, there are grey clouds and endless rain that seeps into your bones, your soul.

Valentine WeatherKiss me with rain on your eyelashes,come on, let us sway together,under the trees, and to hell with thunder.

She let herself fall backwards into the music, and it was like falling in a dream, without fear.It was like being a raindrop falling into the ocean that had started you.

One by one and then together the birds chanted, warbled, whistled, and cooed, like a rare desert plant bursting into life after the rain.

A pure drop of rain may fall on a beautiful water lily or on a dirty mud pond! This is exactly what happens when we are born!

It was a rainy night. It was the myth of a rainy night.

The rain to the wind said,You push and I'll pelt.'They so smote the garden bedThat the flowers actually knelt,And lay lodged--though not dead.I know how the flowers felt.

Nature like man sometimes weeps for gladness.

I went to bed and woke in the middle of the night thinking I heard someone cry, thinking I myself was weeping, and I felt my face and it was dry.Then I looked at the window and thought: Why, yes, it's just the rain, the rain, always the rain, and turned over, sadder still, and fumbled about for my dripping sleep and tried to slip it back on.

Boy, it began to rain like a bastard. In buckets, I swear to God. All the parents and mothers and everybody went over and stood right under the roof of the carrousel, so they wouldn't get soaked to the skin or anything, but I stuck around on the bench for quite a while. I got pretty soaking wet, especially my neck and my pants. My hunting hat really gave me quite a lot of protection, in a way; but I got soaked anyway. I didn't care, though. I felt so damn happy all of a sudden, the way old Phoebe kept going around and around. I was damn near bawling, I felt so damn happy, if you want to know the truth. I don't know why. It was just that she looked so damn nice, the way she kept going around and around, in her blue coat and all. God, I wish you could've been there.

When I see you plodding along through the rain in dull, drab mackintoshes, with your noses tucked into your collars, I long to offer you a little advice. It is this: fight the weather with contrasts ... You must create an artificial sun to replace the one who has hidden himself. So why not a brighter note in your dress instead of the eternal grey, black, brown or navy?

No struggle, no success! The strongest thunder strikes often bring the heaviest rainfall! The weight of your fulfillment depends on how wide you cast your nets!

I lay awake listening to the rain, and at first it was as pleasant to my ear and my mind as it had long been desired; but before I fell asleep it had become a majestic and finally a terrible thing, instead of a sweet sound and symbol. It was accusing and trying me and passing judgment. Long I lay still under the sentence, listening to the rain, and then at last listening to words which seemed to be spoken by a ghostly double beside me. He was muttering: The all-night rain puts out summer like a torch. In the heavy, black rain falling straight from invisible, dark sky to invisible, dark earth the heat of summer is annihilated, the splendour is dead, the summer is gone. The midnight rain buries it away where it has buried all sound but its own. I am alone in the dark still night, and my ear listens to the rain piping in the gutters and roaring softly in the trees of the world. Even so will the rain fall darkly upon the grass over the grave when my ears can hear it no more…The summer is gone, and never can it return. There will never be any summer any more, and I am weary of everything… I am alone.The truth is that the rain falls for ever and I am melting into it. Black and monotonously sounding is the midnight and solitude of the rain. In a little while or in an age – for it is all one – I shall know the full truth of the words I used to love, I knew not why, in my days of nature, in the days before the rain: ‘Blessed are the dead that the rain rains on.

When I could hold my eyes open long enough, I did stare up at the rain pelting down on me. I’ve never looked at it like that, straight up into the sky, and while I flinched more than I could actually see, when I could see it was absolutely beautiful. Like each drop rocketing towards me was separate from the thousands of others and for a suspended moment in time, I could glimpse it and see its delicate facets. I saw the gray clouds churning above me and felt the car shake when the wind from the traffic pushed against it. I shivered even though it’s warm enough to swim. But nothing I saw or felt or heard was as warm and fascinating as Andrew’s closeness.

would you like to dance in the rain?

They've never known a time when people drank rain water because it was pure, or could eat snow, or swim in any river or brook. The last time I drove to Washington the traffic was so bad that I could have made better time with a horse.

The wind whirls and whistles and strip pink blooms from the mimosas, scatters twigs, broken limbs, pine needles and pine cones across our yard, and robs the pecan trees of a thousand leaves. The storm eventually dies, but the bruised trees continue to weep into the night, still shimmering with dewy leaves when the sun comes up the next morning.

How Beautiful is the rain!After the dust and heat,In the broad and fiery street,In the narrow lane,How beautiful is the rain!How it clatters along the roofs,Like the tramp of hoofs!How it gushes and struggles outFrom the throat of the overflowing spout!Across the window-paneIt pours and pours;And swift and wide,With a muddy tide,Like a river down the gutter roarsThe rain, the welcome rain!-"Rain in Summer

To them, as to Magnus, time was like rain, glittering as it fell, changing the world, but something that could also be taken for granted.

Being soaked alone is cold. Being soaked with your best friend is an adventure.

As an angler and a gardener, I cherish each drop of rain that falls.

You see," the tourist went on, "you know that thing you do with seaweed?"Bethan, brought up on the Vortex Plains, had only heard of the sea in stories, and had decided she didn't like it. She looked blank. "Eat it?" "No, what you do is, you hang it up outside your door, and it tells you if it's going to rain." Another thing Bethan had learned was that there was no real point in trying to understand anything Twoflower said, and that all anyone could do was run alongside the conversation and hope to jump on it as it turned a corner."I see," she said. "Rincewind is like that, you see." "Like seaweed." "Yes. If there was anything at all to be frightened about, he'd be frightened. But he's not. The star is just about the only thing I've ever seen him not frightened of. If he's not worried, then take it from me, there's nothing to be worried about." "It's not going to rain?" said Bethan. "Well, no, metaphorically speaking." "Oh." Bethan decided not to ask what "metaphorically" meant, in case it had something to do with seaweed.

...tears and rain are the same thing, they're meant to wash you clean and make you grow. If you don't let them out, you'll drown inside.

If the American president is going to rain , then the White House must be busy now of making clouds

During the night a fine, delicate summer rain had washed the plains, leaving the morning sky crisp and clean. The sun shone warm—soon to bake the earth dry. It cast a purple haze across the plain—like a great, dark topaz. In the trees the birds sang, while the squirrels jumped from branch to branch in seeming good will, belying the expected tension of the coming days.