wind quotes
In youth open your mind, And let all learning in; Words the head does not shape Are worthless, out and in. Words wit has not salted,No nearer the heart than the lip, Are nothing more than wind, A puppy's insolent yelp.
Though raging stormes movis us to shake, And wind makis waters overflow; We yield thereto bot dois not break And in the calm bent up we grow. So baneist men, though princes rage, And prisoners, be not despairit. Abide the calm, whill that it 'suage, For time sic causis has repairit.
Westron winde, when wilt thou blow, The smalle raine downe can raine? Christ if my love were in my armes, And I in my bed againe.
I challenge all the men alive To say they e'er were gladder, Than boys all striving, Who should kick most wind out of the bladder.
A Boston man is the east wind made flesh.
Oh I see said the Earl but my own idear is that these things are as piffle before the wind.
O'er his white banes, when they are bare, The wind sall blaw for evermair.
I'm a fart in a gale of wind, a humble violet under a cow pat.
And, behold, the L passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the L; but the L was not in the wind: and after thewind anearthquake; butthe L wasnot inthe earthquake: And after the earthquake a fire; but the L was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.
Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.But his delight is in the law of the L; and in his law doth he meditate dayand night. And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in hisseason; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper. The ungodlyare not so: but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away.
As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more.
And a manshall be as an hiding place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest; as rivers of water in a dry place, as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.
For they have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.
Even so we in like manner, as soon as we were born, began to draw to our end, and had no sign of virtue to shew; but were consumed in our own wickedness. For the hope of the ungodly is like dust that is blown away with the wind; like a thin froth that is driven away with the storm; like as the smoke which is dispersed here and there with a tempest, and passeth away as the remembrance of a guest that tarrieth but a day.
The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is everyonethat is born of the Spirit.
And when the day of Pentecost was fully come, they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat uponeach ofthem. And they wereall filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance.
Never pain to tell thy love Love that never told can be; For the gentle wind does move Silently, invisibly.
Mock on, mock on,Voltaire Rousseau; Mock on, mock on,'tis all in vain! You throw the sand against the wind, And the wind blows it back again.
Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind.
There's night and day, brother, both sweet things; sun, moon, and stars, brother, all sweet things: there's likewise a wind on the heath. Life is very sweet, brother; who would wish to die?
The wind howls and the countryside is the colour of a lion.Foraweek the cicadashave beenscreaming; Ithink by now most of them have burst, for there are far fewer.
My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring And carried aloft on the wings of the breeze; For above and around me the wild wind is roaring, Arousing to rapture the earth and the seas.
The winter wind is loud and wild, Come close to me, my darling child; Forsake thy books, and mateless play; And, while the night isgathering grey, We'll talk its pensive hours away. Brooke
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.
Our doom is, to be sifted by the wind, heaped up, smoothed down like silly sands. We are less permanent than thought.
Of a'the airts the wind can blaw, I dearly like the West; For there the bonie Lassie lives, The Lassie I lo'e best.
L'absence est a' l'amour ce qu'est au feu le vent; Il e teint le petit, il allume le grand. Absence is to love what wind is to fire; It extinguishes the small, it kindles the great.
Oaths are but words, and words but wind.
But the principal failing occurred in the sailing, And the Bellman, perplexed and distressed, Said he had hoped, at least, when the wind blew due East, That the ship would not travel due West!
A lonely man is a lonesome thing, a stone, a bone, a stick, a receptacle for Gilbey's gin, a stooped figure sitting at the edge of a hotel bed, heaving copious sighs like the autumn wind.
The frost performs its secret ministry, Unhelped by any wind.
Suddenlya puff of wind, a puff faint and tepid and laden with strange odours of blossoms, of aromatic wood, comes out of the still nightthe first sigh of the east on my face.
A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast
There was a fine gentle wind, and Mr Pickwick's hat rolled sportively before it. The wind puffed, and Mr Pickwick puffed, and the hat rolled over and over as merrilyas a lively porpoise in a strong tide.
The wind's in the east I am always conscious of an uncomfortablesensationnowand thenwhenthewind is blowing in the east.
I have forgot much,Cynara! Gone with the wind, Flung roses, roses, riotously with the throng, Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind; But I was desolate and sick of an old passion, Yea, all the time, because the dance was long: I have been faithful to thee,Cynara! in my fashion.
Fair stood the wind for France When we our sails advance, Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry.
How many roads must a man walk down Before you can call him a man? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind, The answer is blowin' in the wind.
I think we ought to let him hang there. Let him twist slowly, slowly in the wind.
Clear the air! clean the sky! wash the wind! take the stonefromthestone, taketheskinfromthearm, takethe muscle from bone, and wash them.
And the wind shall say: 'Here were decent godless people: Their only monument the asphalt road And a thousand lost golf balls.'
And glow more intense than blaze of branch, or brazier, Stirs the dumb spirit: no wind, but pentecostal fire In the dark time of the year. Between melting and freezing The soul's sap quivers.
Our childhoods are sowing the wind, our adulthoods are reaping the whirlwind.
Sleep is when all the unsorted stuff comes flying out as from a dustbin upset in a high wind.
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.
Nocht is your fairnes bot ane faiding flour, Nocht is your famous laud and hie honour Bot wind inflat in uther mennis eiris.
I struck the board, and cried,'No more. I will abroad.' What? shall I ever sigh and pine? My lines and life are free; free as the road, Loose as the wind, as large as store.
On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble; His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves; The wind it plies the saplings double, And thick on Severn snow the leaves.
Speak now, and I will answer; How shall I help you, say; Ere to the wind's twelve quarters I take my endless way. 415
Que se rompa el andamio de los huesos Que se derrumben las vigas del cerebro Yarrastre el huraca n los trozos a la nada al otro lado En donde el viento azota a Dios Smash the scaffold of the bones Pull down the rafters of the brain Let the hurricane drag the pieces to the nothing on the other side Where the wind thrashes God
'Oh Mary, go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, Across the sands of Dee.' The western wind was wild and dank with foam, And all alone went she.
Come; and strong within us Stir theVikings' blood; Bracing brain and sinew; Blow, thou wind of God!
I cannot tell where you should look for me, if you send out any pinnace to seek me; because I live at the devotion of the wind and seas. And thus fare you well; desiring God to send us a merry meeting in this world, if it be his good will and pleasure.
L'absence diminue les me diocres passions, et augmente les grandes,comme le vent e teint les bougies, et allume le feu. Absence diminishes commonplace passions, and increases great ones, as wind extinguishes candles and kindles fire.
Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me! A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time.
As for mefor me, the grass grew longer, and more sorrowful, and the trees were surfaced like flesh, and girls were no longer to be treated lightly but were creatures of commanding sadness, and all journeys through the valley were now made alone, with passion in every bush, and the motions of wind and cloud and stars were suddenly for myself alone, and voices elected me of all men living and called me to deliver the world, and I groaned from solitude, blushed when I stumbled, loved strangers and bread and butter, and made long trips through the rain on my bicycle, stared wretchedly through lighted windows, grinned wryly to think how little I was known, and lived in a state of raging excitement.
A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
Verde que te quiero verde. Verde viento.Verdes ramas. El barco sobre la mar y el caballo en la montan a. Green how I love you green. Green wind.Green boughs. The ship on the sea and the horse on the mountain.
If to be absent were to be Away from thee; Or that when I am gone, You or I were alone; Then my Lucasta might I crave Pity from blust'ring wind, or swallowing wave.
There is no good in arguing with the inevitable.The only argument available with an east wind is to put on your overcoat.
Woord is but wynd; leff woord and tak the dede.
The most striking of all the impressions that I have formed since I left London a month ago is of the strength of African national consciousness. In different places it may take different forms, but it is happening everywhere. The wind of change is blowing through this continent.Whether we like it or not, the growth of national consciousness is a political fact.
America is a hurricane, and the only people who do not hear the sound are those fortunate if incredibly stupid and smug White Protestantswho live inthe center, inthe serene eye of the big wind.
The east wind prevails over the west wind.
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.
It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of bird's cries; I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes.
A wind sways in the pines, And below Not a breath of wild air; Still as the mosses that glow On the flooring and over the lines Of the roots here and there. The pine tree drops its dead; Theyare quiet, as under the sea. Overhead, overhead Rushes life in a race, As the clouds the clouds chase; And we go, And we drop like the fruits of the tree, Even we, Even so.
The frolic wind that breathes the spring, Zephyr with Aurora playing, As he met her once a-Maying, There on beds of violets blue, And fresh-blown roses washed in dew, Filled her with a daughter fair, So buxom, blithe, and debonair.
Theyare sped; And when they list, their lean and flashy songs 578 Grate on their scrannel Pipes of wretched straw, The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, But swollen with wind, and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread, Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said, But that two-handed engine at the door, Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.
But knowledge is as food, and needs no less Her temperance over appetite, to know In measure what the mind may well contain, Oppresses else with surfeit, and soon turns Wisdom to folly, as nourishment to wind.
Nous sommes par tout vent. We are all wind throughout.
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, And the highwayman came riding Ridingriding The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
Political languageis designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind.
Your anger was a climate I inhabited like a desert in a dry frigid weather of high thin air and ivory sun, sand dunes the wind lifted into stinging clouds that blinded and choked me where the only ice was in the blood.
Lo! the poor Indian, whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind; His soul proud Science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk, or milky way; Yet simple Nature to his hope has giv'n, Behind the cloud-topped hill, an humbler heav'n.
The way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses grey, Seemed to have known a better day; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried byan orphan boy, The last of all the Bards was he, Who sung of Border chivalry.
Heap on more wood!the wind is chill; But let it whistle as it will, We'll keep our Christmas merry still.
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing.
This rortie wretched city Sair come down frae its auld hiechts The hauf o't smug, complacent, Lost til all pride of race or spirit, The tither wild and rouch as ever In its secret hairt But lost alsweill, the smeddum tane, The man o'independent mind has cap in hand the day Sits on its craggy spine And drees the wind and rain That nourished all its genius Weary wi centuries This empty capital snorts like a great beast Caged in its sleep, dreaming of freedom.
God tempers the wind, said Maria, to the shorn lamb.
Whenever the moon and stars are set, Whenever the wind is high, All night long in the dark and wet, A man goes riding by. Late in the night when the fires are out, Why does he gallop and gallop about?
Blows the wind to-day, and the sun and the rain are flying, Blows the wind on the moors to-dayand now, Where about the graves of the martyrs the whaups are crying, My heart remembers how!
I saw rain falling and the rainbow drawn On Lammermuir. Hearkening I heard again In my precipitous city beaten bells Winnow the keen sea wind. And here afar, Intent on my own race and place, I wrote.
Ah, yet would God this flesh of mine might be Where air might wash and long leaves cover me; Where tides of grass break into foam of flowers, Or where the wind's feet shine along the sea.
Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore Than labour in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar; Oh rest ye, brother mariners, we will not wander more.
Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon: Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.
Come not, when I am dead, To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave, To trample round my fallen head, And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save. There let the wind sweep and the plover cry; But thou, go by. Child, if it were thine error or thy crime I care no longer, being all unblest; Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time, And I desire to rest. Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie: Go by, go by.
I am going a long way With these thou se'stif indeed I go (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) To the island-valley of Avilion; Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crowed with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
Cats, no less liquid than their shadows, Offer no angles to the wind. They slip, diminished, neat, through loopholes Less than themselves.
When Gods were young This wind was old.
We will listen to the wind's text Blown through the roof, or the thrush's song In the thick bush that proved him wrong, Wrong from the start, for nature's truth Is primary and her changing seasons Correct out of a vaster reason The vague errors of the flesh.
Keep bees and grow asparagus, watch the tides and listen to the wind instead of the politicians make up your own stories and believe them if you want to live the good life.
I shall stay [the reader] no longer than to wish him a rainy day to read thisdiscourse; and that if he be an honest angler, the east wind may never blow when he goes a- fishing.
For your names Of whores and murderers, they proceed from you, As if a man should spit against the wind; The filth returns in's face.
Iwill not permitthirtymentotravelfourhundredmilesto agitate a bag of wind.
All night, this headland Lunges into the rumpling Capework of the wind.
For there is a wind or a ghost of wind in all books echoing the life there, a high wind that fills the tubes of the ear until we think we hear a wind, actual.
Autumn wind rises; white clouds fly. Grass and trees wither; geese go south.
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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