All shadows of clouds the sun cannot hide like the moon cannot stop oceanic tide;but a hidden star can still be smiling at night's black spell on darkness, beguiling
How easily such a thing can become a mania, how the most normal and sensible of women once this passion to be thin is upon them, can lose completely their sense of balance and proportion and spend years dealing with this madness.
Let us go where skins are rainbowsEnhanced by every hue.Where genders are cloudsWeightless and formless through.Let us go where creeds are starsIlluminating our view.Where men and women are oneAnd the in-between are true.Let us go where I am free to loveFor I cannot unlove you.
Fill the world with acid rain clouds and you will be in a new era of evolution, due to the changed electromagnetic frequencies emissions and light emissions from the lightning clouds. A new era of global environmental radiation!
Listen.Do you see that you can’t hear snowfall?Look.Do you sensethat you can’t see love?Touch.Do you graspthat you can’t catch poems?Try.Smell this glass. Go on taste this cloud.These material senses won’t get you far untilyou feelthe velvet glove caress your soul.
You know what an illusion is? On this planet, one small cloud has the ability to block the entire sun.
When you become a raindrop in your mind Thunder is the closest friend you may find Wind lashed trees, dark clouds, lightning or the dust Everything you will bear once you adjust
Rain makes me feel less alone. All rain is, is a cloud- falling apart, and pouring its shattered pieces down on top of you. It makes me feel good to know I'm not the only thing that falls apart . It makes me feel better to know other things in nature can shatter.
Why are doors more difficult to openas if some sadness were leaning against them?Why do windows darken and trees bendwhen there is no wind? You call that occasionalroar the roar of a plane and I imaginea time when I might have believed that. But now the darkness has been going onfor too long, and I have accustomed myselfto the pleasure of thinking that soonthere will be no reason to hold on in this placewhere rocks are like water and it’s so difficultto find something solid to hold on to.
What a strange thing it is to wake up to a milk-white overcast June morning! The sun is hidden by a thick cotton blanket of clouds, and the air is vapor-filled and hazy with a concentration of blooming scent.The world is somnolent and cool, in a temporary reprieve from the normal heat and radiance.But the sensation of illusion is strong. Because the sun can break through the clouds at any moment . . .What a soft thoughtful time.In this illusory gloom, like a night-blooming flower, let your imagination bloom in a riot of color.
Take your dreams off the ground to the clouds of business where your products will contribute to make the world a better place.
Complains are like the clouds that produce no rain no matter how thick they gather. Never depend on your complaint thinking they are stair cases. Drop that thing.
A cloudy morning does not signify that the entire day is gonna be rainy! What's pressing you down today has nothing to change about your great future! Let patience be your inspiration.
December's wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer's memory...
Eagle's flight of loneliness soars so high Around its sigh, no more alone the sky Other birds remain away, clouds pass byBetween shrouds of life and haze sun rays die
Gray.The overcast skies had the colour of deadened stones, and seemed closer than usually, as though they were phlegmatically observing my every movement with their apathetic emptily blue-less eyes; each tiny drop of hazy rain drifting around resembled transparent molten steel, the pavement looked like it was about to burst into disconsolate tears, even the air itself was gray, so ultimate and ubiquitous that colour was everywhere around me.Gray...
Sometimes I hear Mark laugh, and some days in the car the right song will come on the satellite radio and I'll feel him there tingling like a phantom limb. Like he's sitting there next to me in the dark. But I know that's not so. And I know that when you die there's not even darkness, and I know Mark and me won't meet on some cloud or in some pit of fire. And I guess that's a good thing. I couldn't take those eyes seeing what's become of me, those eyes looking down at my hands and my chewed-up ragged nails.
I inhale and a zephyr enters my body. The earth tilts its axis, changing my view of the heavens. Two clouds appear in the shape of trumpets. They part and rays of sunlight burst in. The sunlight speaks, 'Seek a new experience.
The sky is blue today, Max, and there is a big long cloud, and it's stretched out, like a rope. At the end of it, the sun islike a yellow hole. . .
But you know, as I do, that the storm will passAnd that the implacable sun doesn't simply stopWhen obscured by a dark, pernicious cloud,Which is why I know I'll return to your house-On a Sunday that's there on the calendar-And laugh with you over a glass of grappa.
They are forever looking into the nooks and crannies of a thing, whatever the thing may be. Always up very early or very late, going for rides on the backs of whales who deliver the mail; waking up covered in a secret language of hums; writing about the hobbies of feathers; changing shape like a cloud; howling at the moon; being a radioactive night-light in the dark; being a life raft on an ocean of alphabet soup; being great-hearted; being selfless; believing in tall tales, doodlebugs, and doohickeys. Believing. Believing in themselves. Believing in you.
POSTNot a head stands out A finger rises Then it is the voice that one knows A signal a brief note A man leaves Up above a cloud that passes by No one goes in And the night keeps its secret
They lit her wings with the flames, but she raised to the sky soaring over the clouds until the whole sky caught fire. She flew staring at the destruction with her cold eyes, while the clouds came down as the balls of fire and burnt everyone, who tried to take her wings away into ashes.
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
Human beings say, It never rains but it pours. This is not very apt, for it frequently does rain without pouring. The rabbits' proverb is better expressed. They say, One cloud feels lonely: and indeed it is true that the sky will soon be overcast.
You’re nasty and you’re loud,you’re mean enough for two,If I could be a cloud,I’d rain all day on you.