Drops Of Rain Quotes

Then she turned on him in a hundred small ways, each of them minor and not unusual when one human being lived with another, but this was like saying that a typhoon was nothing more than single drops of rain pushed by a little wind. ~ Andre Dubus III

It was raining in the quadrangle, and the quadrangular sky looked like a grimace of a robot or a god made in our own likeness. The oblique drops of rain slid down the blades of grass in the park, but it would have made no difference if they had slid up. Then the oblique (drops) turned round (drops), swallowed up by the earth underpinning the grass, and the grass and the earth seemed to talk, no, not talk, argue, their comprehensible words like crystallized spiderwebs or the briefest crystallized vomitings, a barely audible rustling, as if instead of drinking tea that afternoon, Norton had drunk a steaming cup of peyote. ~ Roberto Bolano

I let every grain of sand slip through my fingers
As the wind carried them away;
Some drops of rain absorbed by the sand,
Some dissolved in the sea.

I'd go back carrying no traces
Of where I'd been,
But the sand settled between my fingers,
And the grains falling off from my toes.

I wouldn't soil the carpet on the floor
If only I'd known... ~ Sanhita Baruah

Snowflakes are drops of rain clothed in the highest haute couture. ~ Corina Abdulahm Negura

In a matter of seconds, the sky darkened and the first fat drops of rain splashed around us. We went from table to table to gather our guests, smiling to mask our nervousness as the wind blew harder. As I watched the empty chairs overturning and the linens on the grape arbor flapping like sails, I was seized with a sudden fear. The wind whipped the trees; the creak of branches presaged the first sharp flash of lightning, followed by a thunder crack that set my heart pounding. ~ Rosie Genova

The first drops of rain started to fall.
'God's policemen,' said Jester.
'You what?'
'The police always used to pray for rain before any big demonstration because people wouldn't turn up. Nobody wants to run riot in the streets if it's pouring with rain. Who's going to want to fight in this? ~ Charlie Higson

Life sparkled towards me through the drops of rain on glass, shimmered fragrantly above the fug of wet clothes and damp feet. ~ Gail Honeyman

Bridget's voice floated out from the kitchen. Cold blows the wind tonight, sweetheart, Cold are the drops of rain; The very first love that ever I had In greenwood he was slain. I'll do as much for my sweetheart As any young woman may; I'll sit and mourn at his graveside A twelve-month and a day. ~ Cassandra Clare

Outside sleep's open window, between the drops of rain, history is writing a recipe book for every earthly pain. ~ Ani DiFranco

Every drop of rain does waters the earth. ~ Lailah Gifty Akita

The traditional writer is a sensitive only child, asthmatic, who sits on the window seat watching the drops of rain slide down the pane, very introspective. I'm not inward-looking. I would never go to a shrink. I don't want to know what I'm thinking. I don't really like discussions in my family. It may be an avoidance thing. ~ Deborah Moggach

You are like the first drops of the wet rain
You are like the first rays of the warm sun
I call myself a madman
For I have lost myself within you
Somewhere... ~ Avijeet Das

Beth feels likes this storm. Constant and persistent as a whole, but the more I get close and try to clutch the individual drops of rain, the more the water falls out of my hands. ~ Katie McGarry

Little drops of rain
Whisper of the pain
Tears of love
Lost in the days gone by. ~ Robert Plant

Opportunities are like drops of rain ... you have to welcome them, harvest them and make them turn around. If you carry an umbrella all the time, you will miss the fun of soaking in their grandeur. They make you the person you would like to be, one day! ~ Balroop Singh

but all I see in the space between the words, / between drops of rain / is how we are both sad / in any language ~ Colleen J. McElroy

Oh, the world needs those standing on the Bridge, For they know how Eternity reaches to earth In the wind that brings music to the leaves Of the forest: in the drops of rain that caress The sleeping life of the desert: in the sunbeams Of the first spring day in an alpine meadow. Only they can blow the dust from the seeing eyes Of those who are blind. ~ Jane Goodall

Of course, about a dozen steps from the Stall I was regretting my nobility, but I refused to go back and ask for the rain gear. I could be petty that way.
And hey, no objection to seeing Karish with his shirt soaked through. It was clingy while in the Stall, but a few drops of rain had it completely plastered to his shoulders, chest, back and stomach. His black hair was slicked close to his head. Rain streamed over his face and throat and clung to his eyelashes. He made a beautiful drowned rat.
Unfortunately, Karish's shirt wasn't the only garment to be quickly soaked through. I couldn't carry off the look with the same panache. ~ Moira J. Moore

we are all born from the same celestial seed; all of us have the same father, from which the earth, the mother who feeds us, receives clear drops of rain, producing from them bright wheat and lush trees, and the human race, and the species of beasts, offering up the foods with which all bodies are nourished, to lead a sweet life and generate offspring ~ Carlo Rovelli

when you're sitting on a plane 40, 000 feet up in the air, looking out the window, dreaming of your future and how bright it appears to be, or maybe just watching the drops of rain being pushed into different designs from the force of air at 400 mph, well, life feels good. it feels safe, your seat belt is on and your feet are up. then the oxygen masks fall, the plane jumps, snaps and jolts. people start to scream, babies burst out crying, people start praying all in time to the overhead announcement that we're gonna crash. right then, as your life flashes before your eyes, you hear yourself say, "god, if you get me outta this one, i'll stop [insert lie here] forever." right then the nose of the plane pulls up and the captain says, "wow, that was a close one, folks. we're ok, we'll be landing in thirty minutes and we're all safe and sound, sorry for the scare…" that's how getting hooked on junk is, and when the kick is over you can't believe you ever got on that plane in the first place. the question is, will you ever fly again? ~ Nikki Sixx

When I look at small things, I think I shall go on living: drops of rain, leather gloves shrunk by being wet ... When I look at something too big, I want to die: the Diet Building, or a map of the world ... ~ Kobo Abe

Furthermore, I refuse to be affected by these cheap theatrics!" She gestured to the boiling sky.
"Gor!" Shelton covered his eyes with one hand.
Dougal instantly went from mad to furious, and the clouds rumbled to life. Yet in that instant, he realized that this tiny little bit of a woman had just reduced centuries of a dramatic and secretive curse to "cheap theatrics." He didn't know whether to rage or laugh, but somehow, looking up into her amazing blue eyes, laughter was beginning to win.
"Furthermore," she continued in high dudgeon, "I won't be cowed by a few damned drops of rain!"
Shelton groaned loudly. "Law,here it comes now."
But it didn't. Instead, a chuckle rippled through Dougal.
Sophia appeared outraged. "Are you laughing at me?"
"No,sweetheart. I'm laughing at us. We cannot even ride from the field to the house without racing. We're doomed to challenge each other forever,and if we don't have a care, my temper will try the two of us like sausages over a spit."
Her lips quivered in response. "I don't particularly care for that image."
"I haven't time for elegance, my love. It is getting ready to rain, so sausages are all you'll get. ~ Karen Hawkins

As the first hard drops of rain fell, the Witch caught sight, not of the girl's face, but of the shoes. Her sister's shoes. They sparkled even in the darkening afternoon. They sparkled like yellow diamonds, and embers of blood, and thorny stars. ~ Gregory Maguire

It is raining, perhaps clouds voiding their deepest longings! Upon the streams I have drove those paper boats to the farthest. Listening to the lonely drops of rain I am trying in vain to sing melodious, Alas the voice ends deep within! Were you the song within? O my dear, but I know you are silence that sings wordless, a melody hummed nameless! ~ Preeth Nambiar

The hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain. ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Wonderboy flashed in the sun. It caught the sphere it was biggest. A noise like a twenty-one gun salute cracked the sky. There was a straining, ripping sound and a few drops of rain spattered to the ground somebody then shouted it was raining cats and dogs. By the time of Roy got in from second he was wading in water ankle deep. ~ Bernard Malamud

The sky began to spit fat drops of rain and a cold gust of wind whipped dust and litter against his legs. The sadness vanished and he thought how glorious the day was. ~ Helen Simonson

Positivity"

You say what you want to say
Your diamonds are drops of rain
Your smile is your credit card
And your currency is your love

[Chorus]
And the morning is for you
And the air is free
And the birds sing for you
And your positivity

So you play where you want to play
On the main streets where the creeps all pray
And you can feel like you're in dynasty
And you can be what you want to be

[Chorus]

And the car crash for you
And the sunshine is free
And the sirens call you

Yes the morning is for you
Yes the air is free
And yes the world spins for you
And your positivity ~ Suede

As he started up Liverpool Road, the thunder came and then thick drops of rain, reprimanding, chastening. He turned up his collar and ran past the Waitrose and the Sainsbury's, dodging last-minute shoppers. Daniel was a runner and so he did not feel the strain in his chest or his legs, even when the rain fell heavier, soaking the shoulders and the back of his jacket, causing him to run faster, and faster. Inside ~ Lisa Ballantyne

Back then, Billy imagined that drops of rain were unanswered prayers falling back to earth. ~ Jim Carroll

And the drops of rain. They are delicate, at first, their splashes graceful against pavement. Soon, though, the soft patter grows into a furious storm. ~ Ky Grabowski

In a city once ravaged by storms, where the destitute victimized by ferocious wind and rain and by the collapse of levees - which were inadequately engineered and no warning was given that they might not hold - and where the only crime attributed to those people was that they were too poor to flee and were consequently fired upon and two of them shot dead - not by looters, not by warring gangs, not by manic throngs of frightened or disoriented people like themselves, but by the very men charged to protect them - ~ John Farrow

I gasp.

All around me, the dead are risin.

Another leg bone bobs to the muddy surface. Then a skull. A arm bone. They swing lazily. The current grabs 'em an carries 'em away.

Wreckers must of used the dry riverbed as a mass grave an now the heavy rain's churnin it all up.

I snatch my hands from the water, hold my arms high, outta the way. Slowly I turn in a circle, blinkin the rain away from my eyes.

Ohmigawd, I says. Ohmigawd ohmigawd ohmigawd.

The river's alive with dead men's bones. It's thick with 'em.

My breath's comin shallow an fast.

I feel somethin touch me. I make myself look down. A skellenton's wrapped itself around my chest. The skull grins up at me.

I shove it away. But when I pull my hands up agin, the whole top half of the skellenton comes with 'em. I'm stuck in the ribcage. The skull's right in my face.

I scream. Shake myself loose. Scramble to git away. Lose my footin.

I fall. I go unner.

An the current sweeps me away. ~ Moira Young

That is why the better part of our memories exists outside us, in a blatter of rain, in the smell of an unaired room or of the first crackling brushwood fire in a cold grate: wherever, in short, we happen upon what our mind, having no use for it, had rejected, the last treasure that the past has in store, the richest, that which, when all our flow of tears seems to have dried at the source, can make us weep again. ~ Marcel Proust

It kind of freaked me out. Because I don't know if I'm ready for that kind of thing yet." Or maybe the problem was that I wasn't prepared for how ready I was…
"Ready for-?" He broke off, and then frowned as if it had all become clear. "Wait." He dropped his arms from around my waist and took a step away from me. "You think I spent the night wit you?"
"Didn't you?" I blinked back at him. "There's only the one bed. And…well, you were in it when I woke up."
Thunder boomed overhead. It wasn't as loud as the violent cracks that had occurred in my dream. Although the rumbles were long enough-and intense enough-that the silverware on the table began to make an eerie tinkling sound.
And my bird, who'd been calmly cleaning herself on the back of my chair, suddenly took off, seeing shelter on the highest bookshelf against the far wall.
I realized I'd just insulted my host, and no joke was going to get me out of it this time.
"For your information, Pierce," John said, his tone almost disturbingly calm-but his eyes flashed the same shade as the stone around my neck, which had gone the color of the metal studs at his wrists-"I spent most of last night on the couch. Until one point early this morning, when I heard you call my name. You were crying in your sleep."
The salt water I'd tasted on my lips. Not due to rain from a violent hurricane, but from the tears I'd shed, watching him die in front of me.
"Oh," I said uncomfortably. "John, I'm so-"
Meg Cabot

Older boys were allowed to beat younger ones at my 15th-century English boarding school, and every boy had to run a five-mile annual steeplechase through the sludge and rain of an October day, as horses do. We wrote poems in dead languages and recited the Lord's Prayer in Latin every Sunday night. ~ Pico Iyer

The roots of the grass strain, Tighten, the earth is rigid, waits-he is waiting- And suddenly, and all at once, the rain! ~ Archibald MacLeish

I was proceeding slowly one afternoon through torrents of rain and kept seeing that red ghost swimming and shivering with lust in my mirror, when presently the deluge dwindled to a patter, and then was suspended altogether. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

It used to be obvious that the world was designed by some sort of intelligence. What else could account for fire and rain and lightning and earthquakes? Above all, the wonderful abilities of living things seemed to point to a creator who had a special interest in life. Today we understand most of these things in terms of physical forces acting under impersonal laws. We don't yet know the most fundamental laws, and we can't work out all the consequences of the laws we do know. The human mind remains extraordinarily difficult to understand, but so is the weather. We can't predict whether it will rain one month from today, but we do know the rules that govern the rain, even though we can't always calculate their consequences. I see nothing about the human mind any more than about the weather that stands out as beyond the hope of understanding as a consequence of impersonal laws acting over billions of years. ~ Steven Weinberg

If our designs are failing due to the constant rain of changing requirements, it is our designs that are at fault. We must somehow find a way to make our designs resilient to such changes and protect them from rotting. ~ Robert Cecil Martin

Pray, pray, thou who also weepest,
And the drops will slacken so; Weep, weep
and the watch thou keepest, With a quicker count will go. Think,
the shadow on the dial For the nature most undone, Marks the passing of the trial, Proves the presence of the sun. ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Rain is one of the most ambiguous states of nature. Each person interprets it in his own way and revives it in a unique manner. ~ Elena Paolino

Tell me a story, a story that will be my story as well as the story of everyone and everything about me, the story that brings us together in a valley community, a story that brings together the human community with every living being in the valley, a story that brings us together under the arc of the great blue sky in the day and the starry heavens at night, a story that will drench us with rain and dry us in the wind, a story told by humans to one another that will also be the story that the wood thrush sings in the thicket, the story that the river recites in its downward journey, the story that Storm King Mountain images forth in the fullness of its grandeur. ~ Thomas Berry

finally it became obvious that my talents lay with flies. That's a fate that takes some getting used to. Anyway, the hoverflies are only props. No, not only, but to some extent. Here and there, my story is about something else. Exactly what, I don't know. Some days I tell myself that my mission is to say something about the art and sometimes the bliss of limitation. And the legibility of landscape. Other days are more dismal. As if I were queueing in the rain outside confessional literature's nudist colony, mirrors everywhere, blue with cold. But ~ Fredrik Sjoberg

The culture's reverence for nature accentuates Kyoto's innate beauty. Designs on fabric, pottery, lacquer, and folding screens depict swirling water, budding branches, and birds in flight. Delicate woodcuts and scrolls celebrate the moonlight, rain, and snow. Elegant restaurant dishes arrive with edible garnishes of seasonal flora. ~ Victoria Abbott Riccardi

How I hate the sight of an umbrella! ~ Jane Austen

It was the day of the worms. That first almost-warm, after-the-rainy-night day in April, when you bolt from your house to find yourself in a world of worms. They were as numerous here in the East End as they had been in the West. The sidewalks, the streets. The very places where they didn't belong. Forlorn, marooned on concrete and asphalt, no place to burrow, April's orphans. ~ Jerry Spinelli

The riot had taken on a beauty of its own now. Arcs of gasoline fire under the crescent moon. Crimson tracer in mystical parabolas. Phosphorescence from the barrels of plastic bullet guns. A distant yelling like that of men below decks in a torpedoed prison ship. The scarlet whoosh of Molotovs intersecting with exacting surfaces. Helicopters everywhere: their spotlights finding one another like lovers in the Afterlife.
And all this through a lens of oleaginous Belfast rain. ~ Adrian McKinty

The interplay between farmers and the elements was a poem without words, the echo which would always return to him.
The air could hold the "breeze of the rain" or the "wind of warmth" to the discerning nose.
The stone carved its memory deep into the hands that chiseled it.
Fire was life in the hearth which was the center of home.
Water introduced itself to us from its most natural source in streams and wells. ~ John O'Donohue

The rain has stopped, the air is mild, the sky slowly rolls up fine black images : it is more than enough to frame the perfect moment ; to reflect these images, she would cause dark little tides to be born in our hearts. I don't know how to take advantage of the occasion : I walk at random, calm and empty, under this wasted sky. ~ Jean-Paul Sartre

I guess us folks in California are kind of straitlaced and old-fashioned.
Hahaha, I thought on the way downstairs. I never thought I'd say those words with a straight face ... ~ J.R. Rain

Cautiously, I allowed myself to feel good at times. I found moments of peace in ... rooms just staring at the knobs of some dresser or listening to the rain in the dark. The less I needed the better I felt. ~ Charles Bukowski

It was a chorus! A rain of garbage! A Rigoletto from the sewer, from the rancid gullet of the Bronx! ~ Tom Wolfe

Haymich finally drops the good-natured act. "you know who else, Katniss. You know who stepped up first."
Of course I do.
Gale. ~ Suzanne Collins

Only with kisses and red poppies can I love you,
with rain-soaked wreaths,
contemplating ashen horses and yellow dogs.
Only with waves at my back can I love you,
between dull explosions of brimstone and reflective waters,
swimming against cemeteries that circulate in certain rivers,
drowned pasture flooding the sad, chalky tombstones,
swimming across submerged hearts
and faded lists of unburied children. ~ Pablo Neruda

She walked beside Jared, four inches of rain-dashed darkness between her hanging wrist and his. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan

If he thought at all, but I don't believe he ever thought, it was that he and his shadow, when brought near each other, would join like drops of water ... ~ J.M. Barrie

He saw himself in her eyes, suspended in two shining drops of bright water, himself
dark and tiny, in fine detail, the lines about his mouth, everything there, as if her eyes
were two miraculous bits of violet amber that might capture and hold him intact. ~ Ray Bradbury

You came all this way for a whore?" Albert asked, and Royce shot him a harsh look.

"Don't call her that if you want to live a long and happy life," Hadrian said as they dismounted.

"But this is a whorehouse - a brothel, right? And you're here to see a woman, so - "

"So keep talking, Albert." Hadrian tied his horse to the post. "Just let me get farther away."

Gwen saved our lives," Royce said, looking up at the porch. "I beat on doors. I even yelled for help." He looked at Albert, letting that image sink in. Yes, I yelled for help. "No one cared." Royce gestured toward Hadrian. "He was dying in a pool of blood, and I was about to pass out. Broken leg, my side sliced open, the world spinning. Then she was there saying, 'I've got you. You'll be all right now.' We would have died in the mud and the rain, but she took us in, nursed us back to health. People were after us - lots of people … lots of powerful people - but she kept us hidden for weeks, and she never asked for payment or explanation. She never asked for anything." Royce turned back to Albert. "So if you call her a whore again, I'll cut your tongue out and nail it to your chest."

Albert nodded. "Point taken."

Royce climbed the steps to the House and rapped once.

Albert leaned over to Hadrian and whispered, "He knocks at a - "

"Royce can still hear you." Hadrian stopped him.

"Really?"

"Pretty sure. You have no id ~ Michael J. Sullivan

A man from the Land of Fools wanted to pull down the clouds.
'Why?' someone asked him.
'To squeeze out the rain. ~ Idries Shah

At the heart of his paper was the notion that fairy tales relieved us of our need for order and allowed us impossible, irrational desires. Magic was real, that was his thesis. This thesis was at the very center of chaos theory - if the tiniest of actions reverberated throughout the universe in invisible and unexpected ways, changing the weather and the climate, then anything was possible. The girl who sleeps for a hundred years does so because of a single choice to thread a needle. The golden ball that falls down the well rattles the world, changing everything. The bird that drops a feather, the butterfly that moves its wings, all of it drifts across the universe, through the woods, to the other side of the mountain. The dust you breathe in was once breathed out. The person you are, the weather around you, all of it a spell you can't understand or explain. ~ Alice Hoffman

It was very damp and misty–which some people from outside the Pacific Northwest consider to be rain, but I do not. This is typical weather for the Pacific Northwest and Olympia. It is often wet in Olympia, but we have an average of only 49.95 inches a year of actual precipitation. That's less than in Denver. In Olympia, the air is damp, and water collects and drips from everywhere. We do not get big downpours, but we get damp and spongy.

I don't care. It helps the trees grow, and I climb the trees. ~ Ned Hayes

Rose sat all alone in the big best parlor, with her little handkerchief laid ready to catch the first tear, for she was thinking of her troubles, and a shower was expected. She had retired to this room as a good place in which to be miserable; for it was dark and still, full of ancient furniture, somber curtains, and hung all around with portraits of solemn old gentlemen in wigs, severe-nosed ladies in top-heavy caps, and staring children in little bobtailed coats or short-waisted frocks. It was an excellent place for woe; amd the fitful spring rain that pattered on the windowpane seemed to sob,Cry away; I'm with you. ~ Louisa May Alcott

Hunted what?" Shea held her breath, afraid of what he might say.
"Beautiful women, little one, and I was the one who found you after all." His white teeth gleamed at her, a definite leer.
"Don't put me off like that." She had already taken advantage, sliding easily into his mind and picking out the pictures of danger and revulsion. Fear even. Not so much of their adversary, but of themselves turning into the very thing they sought to destroy.
Jacques, unprepared for her entrance into his mind, had been confident he could keep the grimmer side of their existence watered down for her. Shea had always been reluctant to enter his mind; it hadn't occurred to him that she would do so whenever she wanted.
His expression was so rueful that Shea burst out laughing. "Where I grew up, that's called being caught with your pants down."
He looked down at his body, glistening with the rain. His grin was self-mocking, his black eyes amused. "Literally. ~ Christine Feehan

The rain beat against the windows and against the tin roof of the hotel. It came down in hissing roars, then in whispers, then in loud shishes like sandpaper rubbed against wood. She drank the second glassful, climbed off the bed and began undressing, and then we were together, the cheap naked bulb still blazing down on the bed.

Thinking back, I remember the stupidest things; the way there was a taut crease just above her hips, in the small of her back. The way she smelled like a baby's breath, a sweet barely there smell that retreated and retreated, so that no matter how close you got to it you weren't sure it was there. The brown speckles in the lavender-gray eyes, floating very close to the surface when I kissed her, the eyes wide open and aware. But not caring. The eyes of a gourmet offered a stale chunk of bread, using it of necessity but not tasting it any more than necessary.

I remember getting up and coming back to her, and of throwing a shoe at the light bulb, later, when the whisky was gone. I remember the smell of rain-darkness in the room and her telling me I'd cut my feet on the light-bulb glass on the floor. And how she said I was no better than a tramp myself, that I made love to the cadence of the raingusts on the roof, and it was true I was doing just that, but it seemed the natural thing then. And I felt so marvelously clean and soaped and so in tune with the whole damned universe that I had the feeling I could have clouded up and rai ~ Elliott Chaze