sky quotes
The spacious firmament on high, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heavens, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim. Th'unwearied sun from day to day Does his Creator's power display; And publishes to every land The work of an Almighty hand.
Four ducks on a pond, A grass-bank beyond, A blue sky of spring, White clouds on the wing; What a little thing To remember for years To remember with tears!
He stood, a point on a sheet of green paper proclaiming himself the center, with no walls, no borders anywhere; the sky no height above him, totally un- enclosed and shouted: Let me out!
The sky is darkening like a stain; Something isgoing to fall like rain, And it won't be flowers.
I heard the church bells hollowing out the sky Deep beyond deep, like never-ending stars.
He answered and said unto them,When it is evening, ye say, It will be fair weather: for the sky is red. And in the morning, It will be foul weather to day: for the sky is red and lowring.O ye hypocrites, ye can discern the face of the sky; but can ye not discern the signs of the times?
The Sheltering Sky.
I lingered around them, under the benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath and hare-bells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
The moon is up, and yet it is not night; Sunset divides the sky with hera sea Of glory streams along the Alpine height Of blue Friuli's mountains; Heaven is free From clouds, but of all colours seems to be Melted to one vast Iris of the West, Where the day joins the past eternity.
There was neither horizon, cloud, nor sound; of that pink, spread silence even I had become part, belonging as much to sky as to earth.
I tell you naught for your comfort, Yea, naught for your desire, Save that the sky grows darker yet And the sea rises higher.
The sky cannot have two suns.
I long for scenes where man hath never trod A place where woman never smiled or wept There to abide with my Creator God And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept, Untroubling and untroubled where I lie The grass below, above, the vaulted sky.
They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead, They brought bitter news to hear, and bitter tears to shed. I wept as I remembered how often you and I Had tired thesunwithtalking and sent himdownthesky.
None of them knew the color of the sky.
who knows if the moon's a balloon, coming out of a keen city in the skyfilled with pretty people?
Do not expect again a phoenix hour, The triple-towered sky, the dove complaining, Sudden the rain of gold and heart's first ease Traced under trees by the eldritch light of sundown.
The Brainis wider than the Sky.
Let us go then, you and I, When the evening is spread out against the sky Like a patient etherized upon a table.
Clear the air! clean the sky! wash the wind! take the stonefromthestone, taketheskinfromthearm, takethe muscle from bone, and wash them.
Quod est ante pedes nemo spectat, caeli scrutantur plagas. No oneregardsthethings before his feet, but views with care the regions of the sky. 314
Part of a moon was falling down the west, Dragging the whole sky with it to the hills.
Holding hands at midnight 'Neath a starry sky, Nice work if you can get it, And you can get it if you try.
Lone, lone, and lone I stand, With none to hear my cry, As the black feet of the night Go walking down the sky.
What, then, was war? No mere discord of flags But an infection of the common sky That sagged ominously upon the earth Even when the season was the airiest May?
As you walk through the storm, Hold your head up high, And don't be afraid of the dark, At the end of the storm, Is a golden sky, And the sweet silver song of the lark, Walk on through the wind, Walk on through the rain, Though your dreams be tossed and blown. Walk on, walk on, With hope in your hearts, And you'll never walk alone, You'll never walk alone.
Give me the clear blue sky over my head, and the green turf beneath my feet, a winding road before me, and a three hours'march to dinnerand then to thinking! It is hard if I cannot start some game on these lone heaths.
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky: The dew shall weep thy fall tonight, For thou must die.
You will eat, byand by, In that glorious land above the sky; Work and pray, live on hay, You'll get pie in the sky when you die.
I stood upon that silent hill And stared into the sky until My eyes were blind with stars and still I stared into the sky.
I remember, I remember, The fir trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky: It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from heav'n Than when I was a boy.
Here of a Sunday morning My love and I would lie, And see the coloured counties, And hear the larks so high About us in the sky.
From far, from eve and morning And yon twelve-winded sky, The stuff of life to knit me Blew hither: here am I.
The troubles of our proud and angry dust Are from eternity, and shall not fail. Bear them we can, and if we can we must. Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
Their shoulders held the sky suspended; They stood, and earth's foundations stay; What God abandoned, these defended, And saved the sum of things for pay.
There is no other course but the one we have chosen, except the course of humiliation and darkness, after which there will be no bright sign in the sky or brilliant light on earth All this will make us more patient and steadfast, and better prepared for the battle which God blesses and which good men support. Then there will only be a glorious conclusion, where a brilliant sun will clear the dust of battle, and where the clouds of battles will be dispelled.
The wing trails like a banner in defeat, No more to use the sky forever but live with famine And pain a few days. 436
Now this is the Law of the Jungleas old and as true as the sky; 471
Ireland never was contented Say you so? You are demented. Ireland was contented when All could use the sword and pen, And whenTara rose so high That her turrets split the sky, And about her courts were seen Liveried Angels robed in green, Wearing, by St. Patrick's bounty, Emeralds big as half a county.
The wonderful Southernnight-sky that makes a manfeel so lonely, alien: with Orion standing on his head in the west, and his sword-belt upside down, and his Dog-star prancing in mid-heaven, high above him; and with the Southern Cross insignificantly mixed in with the other stars, democratically inconspicuous.
I loved you, so I drew these tides of men into my hands and wrote my will across the sky in stars To earn you Freedom, the seven pillared worthy house, that your eyes might be shining for me When we came.
Have you seen the bush by moonlight, from the train, go running by? Blackened log and stump and sapling, ghostly trees all dead and dry; Here a patch of glassy water; there a glimpse of mystic sky? Have you heard the still voice callingyet so warm, and yet so cold: 'I'm the Mother-Bush that bore you! Come to me when you are old'?
Imagine there's no heaven, It's easy if you try, No hell below us, Above us only sky, Imagine all the people Living for today.
They died When time was open-eyed, Wooden and childish; only bones abide There, in the nowhere, where their boats were tossed Sky-high, where mariners had fabled news of IS, the whited monster.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below.
The cowboys had lived for months under the great bowl of the sky, and yet the Montana skies seemed deeper than the skies of Texas or Nebraska. Their depth and blueness robbed even the sun of its harsh forceit seemed smaller, in the vastness, and the whole sky no longer turned white at noon as it had in the lower plains. Always, somewhere to the north, there was a swath of blueness, with white cloads floating in it like petals in a pond. 537
Johnson approached a strongly fortified position by outflanking it, or burrowing under it, or surprising the defenders from the rear, or raining down obstacles upon them from the sky, or starving them into submission Rarely, and then only reluctantly, would he proceed directly from A to B, to him the shortest distance between two points was a tunnel.
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by, And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking, And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.
Let me look into a human eye; it is better than to gaze into sea or sky; better than to gaze upon God.
Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor, So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new spangled ore, Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves.
Him the Almighty Power Hurled headlong flaming from th'ethereal sky With hideous ruin and combustion down To bottomless perdition, there to dwell In adamantine chains and penal fire.
The sky snivels green snot. There is war.
The young girl stood beside me. I Saw not what her young eyes could see: A light, she said, not of the sky Lives somewhere in the OrangeTree.
Not God but a swastika So black no sky could squeak through. Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you.
Is there no bright reversion in the sky, For those who greatly think or bravely die?
Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fly Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky: So this winged hour is dropt to us from above. Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower, This close-companioned inarticulate hour When twofold silence was the song of love.
November's sky is chill and drear, November's leaf is red and sear.
The day becomes more solemn and serene When noon is pastthere is a harmony In autumn, and a lustre in its sky, Which through the summer is not heard or seen, As if it could not be, as if it had not been!
I am the daughter of Earth and Water, And the nursling of the Sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; I change, but I cannot die, For after the rain when with never a stain The pavilion of Heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.
You can't figure him out like a fact, because to Reagan themainfact was avision He came fromtheheartland of the country, where people could be down-to-earth yet feel that the sky is the limitnot ashamed of, or cynical about, the American dream.
In ten thousand years the Sierras Will be dryand dead, home of the scorpion. Ice-scratched slabs and bent trees. No paradise, no fall, Only the weathering land The wheeling sky, Man, with his Satan Scouring the chaos of the mind. Oh Hell!
A stately palace built of square' d brick, Which cunningly was without mortar laid, Whose walls were high, but nothing strong, nor thick, And golden foil all over them displayed, That purest sky with brightness they dismayed.
Most sacred fire, that burnest mightily In living breasts, ykindled first above, Amongst th'eternal spheres and lamping sky, And thence poured into men, which men call Love.
And, in the isolation of the sky, At evening, casual flocks of pigeons make Ambiguous undulations as they sink, Downward to darkness, on extended wings.
It was her voice that made The sky acutest at its vanishing. She measured to the hour its solitude. She was the single artificer of the world In which she sang.
Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be, Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.
On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And through the field the road runs by To many-towered Camelot.
O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river: Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever.
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. Ring out the old, ring in the new, Ring, happy bells, across the snow: The year isgoing, let him go; Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flown, Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone; Maud And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the musk of the rose is blown. For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves On a bed of daffodil sky.
Rain, rain, and sun! a rainbow in the sky! Ayoung man will be wiser byand by; An old man's wit may wander ere he die.
When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd, And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night, I mourn'd, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
I never saw a man who looked With such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of blue Which prisoners call the sky.
She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love: Aviolet bya mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me!
Oh there is blessing in this gentle breeze, Avisitant that while it fans my cheek Doth seem half conscious of the joy it brings From the green fields, and from yon azure sky. Whate'er its mission, the soft breeze can come To none more grateful than to me; escaped From the vast city, where I long had pined A discontented sojourner: now free, Free as a bird to settle where I will.
Then, the calm And dead still water lay upon my mind Even with a weight of pleasure, and the sky, Never before so beautiful, sankdown Into my heart, and held me like a dream.
My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began; So is it now I am a man; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The Child is father of the Man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
The brawling of a sparrow in the eaves, The brilliant moon and all the milky sky, And all that famous harmony of leaves, Has blotted out man's image and his cry.
Webster's New World Dictionary of Quotations Copyright © 2010 by Chambers Harrap Publishers Ltd. All rights reserved. Published by Wiley, Hoboken, NJ. Used by arrangement with John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
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