Raining Quotes
Quotes tagged as "raining"
Showing 1-30 of 47
“For me,
you are fresh water
that falls from trees
when it has stopped raining. For me,
you are cinnamon that lingers
on the tongue and gives
bitter words
sweetening.
For me, you are the scent of
violins and vision
of valleys
smiling.
And still,
for me, your loveliness never ends.
It traverses
the world
and finds its
way back to me.
Only
me.”
―
you are fresh water
that falls from trees
when it has stopped raining. For me,
you are cinnamon that lingers
on the tongue and gives
bitter words
sweetening.
For me, you are the scent of
violins and vision
of valleys
smiling.
And still,
for me, your loveliness never ends.
It traverses
the world
and finds its
way back to me.
Only
me.”
―
“A light rain touches my cheek like an angel's butterfly kisses.”
― Better to be able to love than to be loveable
― Better to be able to love than to be loveable
“I love the way the rain melts the colors together, like a chalk drawing on the sidewalk. There is a moment, just after sunset, when the shops turn on their lights and steam starts to fog up the windows of the cafés. In French, this twilight time implies a hint of danger. It's called entre chien et loup, between the dog and the wolf.
It was just beginning to get dark as we walked through the small garden of Palais Royal. We watched as carefully dressed children in toggled peacoats and striped woolen mittens finished the same game of improvised soccer we had seen in the Place Sainte Marthe.
Behind the Palais Royal the wide avenues around the Louvre gave way to narrow streets, small boutiques, and bistros. It started to drizzle. Gwendal turned a corner, and tucked in between two storefronts, barely wider than a set of double doors, I found myself staring down a corridor of fairy lights. A series of arches stretched into the distance, topped with panes of glass, like a greenhouse, that echoed the plip-plop of the rain. It was as if we'd stepped through the witch's wardrobe, the phantom tollbooth, what have you, into another era.
The Passage Vivienne was nineteenth-century Paris's answer to a shopping mall, a small interior street lined with boutiques and tearooms where ladies could browse at their leisure without wetting the bustles of their long dresses or the plumes of their new hats.
It was certainly a far cry from the shopping malls of my youth, with their piped-in Muzak and neon food courts. Plaster reliefs of Greek goddesses in diaphanous tunics lined the walls. Three-pronged brass lamps hung from the ceiling on long chains.
About halfway down, there was an antique store selling nothing but old kitchenware- ridged ceramic bowls for hot chocolate, burnished copper molds in the shape of fish, and a pewter mold for madeleines, so worn around the edges it might have belonged to Proust himself. At the end of the gallery, underneath a clock held aloft by two busty angels, was a bookstore. There were gold stencils on the glass door. Maison fondée en 1826.”
― Lunch in Paris: A Love Story, with Recipes
It was just beginning to get dark as we walked through the small garden of Palais Royal. We watched as carefully dressed children in toggled peacoats and striped woolen mittens finished the same game of improvised soccer we had seen in the Place Sainte Marthe.
Behind the Palais Royal the wide avenues around the Louvre gave way to narrow streets, small boutiques, and bistros. It started to drizzle. Gwendal turned a corner, and tucked in between two storefronts, barely wider than a set of double doors, I found myself staring down a corridor of fairy lights. A series of arches stretched into the distance, topped with panes of glass, like a greenhouse, that echoed the plip-plop of the rain. It was as if we'd stepped through the witch's wardrobe, the phantom tollbooth, what have you, into another era.
The Passage Vivienne was nineteenth-century Paris's answer to a shopping mall, a small interior street lined with boutiques and tearooms where ladies could browse at their leisure without wetting the bustles of their long dresses or the plumes of their new hats.
It was certainly a far cry from the shopping malls of my youth, with their piped-in Muzak and neon food courts. Plaster reliefs of Greek goddesses in diaphanous tunics lined the walls. Three-pronged brass lamps hung from the ceiling on long chains.
About halfway down, there was an antique store selling nothing but old kitchenware- ridged ceramic bowls for hot chocolate, burnished copper molds in the shape of fish, and a pewter mold for madeleines, so worn around the edges it might have belonged to Proust himself. At the end of the gallery, underneath a clock held aloft by two busty angels, was a bookstore. There were gold stencils on the glass door. Maison fondée en 1826.”
― Lunch in Paris: A Love Story, with Recipes
“It commenced raining one day and did not stop for two months. We went through ever different kind of rain they is, cep'n maybe sleet or hail. It was little tiny stinging rain sometimes, an big ole fat rain at others. It came sidewise an straight down an sometimes even seem to stand up from the ground. Nevertheless, we was expected to do our shit, which was mainly walking upland down the hills an stuff looking for gooks.”
― Forrest Gump
― Forrest Gump
“When it rains, God sits on his throne and listens to his favorite music — the sound of thunder.”
― Song of a Nature Lover
― Song of a Nature Lover
“Rain always seems to me like a thousand little kisses from Heaven.
-
Regen kommen mir doch immer vor wie tausend kleine Küsschen aus dem Himmel.”
―
-
Regen kommen mir doch immer vor wie tausend kleine Küsschen aus dem Himmel.”
―
“I don't belong to any man. I don't belong to any woman. I don't belong to any religion. I don't belong to any country. I don't believe in borders. I don't believe in hate. I am as old as the mountains. I am as vast as the sky. I am as deep as the ocean.
They asked me my name.
And I said I am the rain.”
―
They asked me my name.
And I said I am the rain.”
―
“When it's raining, I like to drive like a Monet painting, as I turn off my wipers and let the lights blur the shapes. Makes traveling more romantic.”
― 94,000 Wasps in a Trench Coat
― 94,000 Wasps in a Trench Coat
“One good thing about the rain is that it is not only destructive, in that it can bring dead plants back to life.”
― Night of a Thousand Thoughts
― Night of a Thousand Thoughts
“She liked it best when it was raining, and she sometimes imagined that in one of the many tall buildings there was another Gerty mopping the floor and looking back at her, a Gerty who had witnessed and learned from the many mistakes this Gerty had made. A Gerty who would do things right.”
― The Thing About Alice
― The Thing About Alice
“My idea of happiness is a rainy evening with a comfortable book to read.”
― Sarah Morgan: The Civil War Diary Of A Southern Woman
― Sarah Morgan: The Civil War Diary Of A Southern Woman
“While a single word spoken might appear to be little more than a handful of syllables, it can rain down a lifetime of destruction. Therefore, the more you keep your mouth shut, the less it rains.”
―
―
“It is the dawn of a new day, and it is raining cats and dogs.
Like a child, dance in the rain, and forget your sorrows.”
― Song of a Nature Lover
Like a child, dance in the rain, and forget your sorrows.”
― Song of a Nature Lover
“I love how the garden brightens after getting drenched by rain.”
― Night of a Thousand Thoughts
― Night of a Thousand Thoughts
“It began raining harder and my thoughts drifted towards the waterfall from the night before. I wondered if the water might work itself into a frenzy around me and drag me down the cliff with it. Flash floods were common in this type of landscape; they came every time it rained. It kept coming down, harder and harder. I cozied up closer to the frigid rock and buried myself deeper in my tank top. By this point, the rain was building into streams and flowing off the rocks around me. I sat there in the fetal position, wondering if the rain was going to sweep me from my feeble perch and down into the dark abyss.”
― Pursued: God’s relentless pursuit and a drug addict’s journey to finding purpose
― Pursued: God’s relentless pursuit and a drug addict’s journey to finding purpose
“A kind heart is like a fountain overflowing with love. It is like the sky pouring down heavy drops of compassion.”
― These Words Pour Like Rain
― These Words Pour Like Rain
“Hold onto life like a mother to her child, for the pain and labor of today will be washed away in tomorrow's rain of joy.”
― These Words Pour Like Rain
― These Words Pour Like Rain
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