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“The brief silence that follows is as tender as a
rainstorm of daisies.”
― Mathias Malzieu, La Mécanique du cÅ“ur

“let my heart always be
like it is...this very moment
ready to explode...with love
a violent rainstorm...
with no stream
no ocean vast enough
to flow into.”
― Sanober Khan, Turquoise Silence

“It was a bad night to be about with such a feeling in one's heart. The rain was cold, pitiless and increasing. A damp, keen wind blew down the cross streets leading from the river. The fumes of the gas works seemed to fall with the rain. The roadway was muddy; the pavement greasy; the lamps burned dimly; and that dreary district of London looked its very gloomiest and worst.

("The Old House In Vauxhall Road")”
― Charlotte Riddell, Gaslit Nightmares: Stories by Robert W. Chambers, Charles Dickens, Richard Marsh, and Others

“They looked so familiar that for a moment Claude feared he had doubled back to Mrs. Merritt's city, until a sudden wave of water blinded his wipers and drove him along with everyone else to the curb, where the crackling radio reported an old man had just now been swept from his backyard by a cloudburst, the latest in a series deluging Tulsa. Clinging there to the side of the hill, no hand brake, Claude rode out the storm, stuffing blankets into the cracks under the doors, watching overhead drips as best he could with the babyseat. When the car next in front crept away from the curb, Claude followed as far as a gas station. There he wondered aloud what lay ahead, but the attendant couldn't say, having swum to work just five minutes ago. Now as Claude pulled away the rain suddenly ceased, it seemed from exhaustion, and for the next hundred miles he spun his dial to catch the latest reports: that old man was still missing, he had last been seen floating downhill toward the river, he had been found, he was dead, he was dying, he was still missing... Claude turned off the radio, for he was beyond range of Tulsa, and Joplin had not heard the news yet. He raced in silence toward the night which he knew already had begun not far ahead.”
― Douglas Woolf, Wall to Wall

“Fantasy like thought that no man could rain
Just let her reign
Run wild with her unafraid
Of any rain storms
They only wash the mud away and make way
For double rainbows and sunny days”
― Maquita Donyel Irvin, Stories of a Polished Pistil: Lace and Ruffles

“Because I see
A rainstorm in June
Just before the sun
The black of night
Just before the stars
And, girl, I see your ghost
Just before our dawn”
― Laura Miller, My Butterfly

“The way I see meditation is this, you can take your car through a carwash, but on the inside, it remains messy, and dirty. Most religions are carwashes. They will tell you the car looks great, because they cannot see the inside. But it is better to clean the inside first, and then later, you can drive it through a rainstorm.”
― Jack Freestone

“On the tenth day, in the morning, a lazy but drenching storm rolled up from the tropics and settled itself over Miryoku. The rain hissed on the garden pavers and flooded the birdbaths till they spilled over. Thunder rolled around the edges of town.”
― Molly Ringle, Ballad for Jasmine Town

“I am a part of it all, a rain storm of diamonds always sparkling like snowflakes on the tips of the trees.”
― Reena Doss, The Last Leaf Of Autumn: Barefoot and falling, infinity is a number that has none to end

“The rain began spilling from the clouds with greater intensity until, off in the distance, over wehere the sun had started to rise, the sky closed back up, and the night that was beginning to recede seemed to return. The main gate at the Media Luna groaned as it swung open, soaked by the wet breeze.”
― Juan Rulfo, Pedro Páramo