ŷ������

“The word of Mohammad is a voice direct from nature's own heart - all else is wind in comparison.”
― Thomas Carlyle

“In the morning light, I remembered how much I loved the sound of wind through the trees. I laid back and closed my eyes, and I was comforted by the sound of a million tiny leaves dancing on a summer morning.”
― Patrick Carman, The Tenth City

“The exhilaration was hard to explain. It was a lonely feeling �� a somehow melancholy feeling. He was outside; he passed on the wings of the wind, and none of the people beyond the brightly lighted squares of their windows saw him. They were inside, inside where there was light and warmth. They didn't know he had passed them; only he knew. It was a secret thing.”
― Stephen King, It

“...I recall that day on the beach - the sand so brilliant, the clouds so massive, and the wind punishing your hair...”
― John Geddes, A Familiar Rain

“I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and filled myself up with the breeze from the valley. Then I let it out slow so it could get back to its travels, with a little bit of me added to it.”
― Katherine Hannigan, Ida B. . . and Her Plans to Maximize Fun, Avoid Disaster, and (Possibly) Save the World

“To a fireman, wind is a curse. To a sailor, wind is a blessing.”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“The bleak autumn wind was still blowing, and the solemn, surging moan of it in the wood was dreary and awful to hear through the night silence. Issac felt strangely wakeful. He resolved, as he lay down in bed, to keep the candle alight until he began to grow sleepy; for there was something unendurably depressing in the bare idea of lying awake in the darkness, listening to the dismal, ceaseless moan of the wind in the wood. ("The Dream Woman")”
― Wilkie Collins, Reign of Terror Volume 2: Great Victorian Horror Stories

“Just then, down through the last glimmer of twilight, stepping high and free, like a cloud, a moth, a ghost in the shape of a horse �� came the Silver Stallion. Wild, beautiful, and free as the wind he came, from one kingdom to another, Thowra”
― Elyne Mitchell, Silver Brumby's Daughter

“I? I am the wind,�� said Thowra. ‘I come, I pass, and I am gone.�� The strange feathers moved up and down, the strange voice said tartly: ‘And are your sons the same?�� ‘My son is the lightning that strikes through the black night. My grandson is light that pierces the dark sky at dawning.�� ‘Ah,�� said the first emu, ‘and we know your daughter is the snow that falls softly from above and clothes the world in white. You want but the rainbow �� that is and was and never will be, and is yet the promise of life �� and the glittering ice which is there and is gone: then you and your family will possess all magic.”
― Elyne Mitchell, Silver Brumby Kingdom

“Dangerous and indifferent ground: against its fixed mass the tragedies of people count for nothing although the signs of misadventure are everywhere. No past slaughter nor cruelty, no accident nor murder that occurs on the little ranches or at the isolate crossroads with their bare populations of three or seventeen, or in the reckless trailer courts of mining towns delays the flood of morning light. Fences, cattle, roads, refineries, mines, gravel pits, traffic lights, graffiti'd celebration of athletic victory on bridge overpass, crust of blood on the Wal-Mart loading dock, the sun-faded wreaths of plastic flowers marking death on the highway are ephemeral. Other cultures have camped here a while and disappeared. Only earth and sky matter. Only the endlessly repeated flood of morning light. You begin to see that God does not owe us much beyond that.”
― Annie Proulx

“...my heart rides the wind and my thoughts sail away - to a land below the horizon where I know you hide from me...”
― John Geddes, A Familiar Rain

“I was tired in the evening yesterday. I felt drained by the last days outer conflicts. I felt separated from life. Suddenly I heard the wind blowing through the trees outside my open window, whispering a silent and playful invitation: "Do you want to play? Do you want to join the dance?" This playful invitation again joined my heart and being with the Existential dance. I was again in a silent prayer and oneness with life.”
― Swami Dhyan Giten, The Silent Whisperings of the Heart - An Introduction to Giten's Approach to Life

“beauty such as theirs was something with which one lived joyously �� racing with the wind, with storm and snow, dancing in the frost or among the golden wattles, galloping, galloping in the spring sun. Life might be dangerous, with beauty that was so difficult to hide, but life was always and ever had been very, very good”
― Elyne Mitchell, Silver Brumby's Daughter

“With riddles as black as coals, and answers as invisible as our past,
I can only depend upon the crest of the rolling wave I now traversed;
a romance worshiped only by the dreamer in us all,
a psithurism of trust making its way through the years of our ascension
to one day climb above the kaleidoscopic canopy of this mortal coil.”
― Dave Matthes, In This House, We Lived, and We Died

“...strands of your hair and tendrils of the wind spin into nothingness the memories of that day...”
― John Geddes, A Familiar Rain

“...the wind hums low with sweet exultation, sings its lullaby, while you sleep ...”
― John Geddes, A Familiar Rain

“The winds that never moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew;
Or out of breath with joy, could not enlarge
Their straighten'd lungs or conscious of their charge.”
― John Dryden

“...we went to watch the waves that bitter day and the wind took your red cap and mittens - blew them into the sea...”
― John Geddes, A Familiar Rain

“..snow gently settles like dust in a shaft - for one moment there is no one else - only the wind like the hiss of an ice skate ...”
― john geddes, A Familiar Rain

“Listening to intuition is similar to watching wind wiggle a pond. Allow the ripples to move you where you need to be.”
― Soul Dancer, Pay Me What I'm Worth: Say it. Mean it. Get it.

“I listen to the sound of India's voices for the last time . Laughter ripples like water . A prayer is a single note held long . There is so much life here . And too much death.I feel a soft brezze caress my face and I look up. An orange ribbon is floating through the air . In India , it's easy to see the wind .”
― Cathy Ostlere, Karma

“Meanwhile the colonel followed the mad woman, and by a strange effect of the superexcitation of his senses, saw her in the darkness, through the mist, as plainly as in broad daylight; he heard her sighs, her confused words, in spite of the continual moan of the autumn winds rushing through the deserted streets.

A few late townspeople, the collars of their coats raised to the level of their ears, their hands in their pockets, and their hats pressed down over their eyes, passed, at infrequent intervals, along the pavements; doors were heard to shut with a crash. An ill-fastened shutter banged against a wall, a tile torn from a housetop by the wind fell into the street; then, again, the immense torrent of air whirled on its course, drowning with its lugubrious voice all other sounds of the night.

It was one of those cold nights at the end of October, when the weathercocks, shaken by the north wind, turn giddily on the high roofs, and cry with shrilly voices, 'Winter! - Winter! - Winter is come!' ("The Child Stealer")”
― Erckmann-Chatrian, Reign of Terror Volume 2: Great Victorian Horror Stories

“The sky's inclemency stirs up the angry winds;
the watery clouds are soaking with ceaseless rain.
The turbulent Vltava, swollen with rainy waves,
Bursting, impetuous, breaks through its river banks.”
― Elizabeth Jane Weston

“A turmoil of winds rushed around him, spiraling up in to the air: he was thinking.”
― Heather James, Fire

“Tis the old wind in the old anger,
But then it threshed another wood.”
― A.E. Housman, A Shropshire Lad

“We are just wind on this earth, wind breathing in air.”
― Anthony Liccione

“Way is, where way goes. As a wind that blows and the bird that soars, into the open blue, where it neither knows when do is due.”
― Anthony Liccione

“Verovao vetru, povetarcu, sad sam oduvan od razočarenja.”
― Marko Sokolovic

“His guess was confirmed when they approached the well-built harbour of a prosperous town and saw the banners flying from the bastions of the citadel. After the sultry heat of Zarzis, the sailors�� hearts were lifted and refreshed by the airy music reaching their ears as they pulled in towards the marble wharf. Only when they docked did they realise that they were listening to the sound of the breeze strumming through countless wind-harps and chiming among webs and lattices of translucent shell. It felt as though the wind that had blown them there was now celebrating their arrival.”
― Lindsay Clarke, The Return from Troy

“Samuel finally understood the sound of the wind after all these years: The winds were a chorus of the prairie’s ever-present heartaches.”
― Andrew Galasetti, These Colors Don't Run