Storm Front Quotes

The storm front had finally broken, tatters of cloud pulling apart like cotton candy and sprinkling the sky with the bright sugar grains of stars. ~ Leah Raeder

By early evening all the sky to the north had darkened and the spare terrain they trod had turned a neuter gray as far as the eye could see. They grouped in the road at the top of a rise and looked back. The storm front towered above them and the wind was cool on their sweating faces. They slumped bleary-eyed in their saddles and looked at one another. Shrouded in the black thunderheads the distant lightning glowed mutely like welding seen through foundry smoke. As if repairs were under way at some flawed place n the iron dark of the world. ~ Cormac McCarthy

What do you have in this car?" he asked.
"What do you mean, like weapons?"
"That would be a good start."
"Well, I 've got a mini Swiss Army Knife on my key chain."
"A two-inch stainless steel blade and a nail file. They might as well surrender to us now ... ~ Richard Castle

The storm front towered above them and the wind was cool on their sweating faces. They slumped bleary-eyed in their saddles and looked at one another. Shrouded in the black thunderheads the distant lightning glowed mutely like welding seen through foundry smoke. As if repairs were under way at some flawed place in the iron dark of the world. ~ Cormac McCarthy

The idea that a game is anything more than a game ... You know, there are people who are basically unbalanced who are going to misuse a game and have bad results. If a golfer who insists on playing during a lightning storm gets hit by a stroke of lightning and is killed nobody says, 'There's golfers dying by the droves being hit by lightning!' You can overdo what you really like, and if you're unbalanced you go overboard. ~ Gary Gygax

After a few sips, he picked up his sax and started jamming with the storm.

Most days, Rivers meditated twice, when he awoke and again in the evening before writing or reading. But he still found a special relaxation and renewal in solitary playing. Contemplation through music was different from other reflective experiences, in part, because his visual associations were set free to mutate, morph, and meander; while the other senses were occupied in fierce concentraction on breathing, blowing, fingering, and listening. Within the flow of this activity, his awareness would land in different states of consciousness, different phases of time, and easily moved between revisualization of experience and its creation.

The playing dislodged hidden feelings, primed him for recognizing the habitually denied, sheathed the sword of lnaguage, and loosened the shield and armor of his character. His contemplative playing purged him of worrisome realities, smelted off from his center the dross of eperience, and on those rare and cherished days, left only the refinement of flickering fire. Although he was more aware of his emotions, the music and dance of thought kept them at arm's length, Wordsworth's "emotion recollected in tranquility." . . .

As he played, his mind's eye became the fisher's bobber, guided by a line of sound around the driftwood of thought, the residue of his life, which materialized from nowhere and sank back into nothingness without his weav ~ Jay Richards

There are no fortresses that Bolsheviks cannot storm. ~ Joseph Stalin

In middle school I played against you once. And lost. I was so frustrated that I continued practicing even after I retired... And then when I entered high school, hell yeah, I laughed. The guy I vowed to defeat no matter what was standing right in front of me as one of my own teammates. But now it's pointless to hold a grudge. Rather, I wanted to make you recognize me. (Takao Kazunari) ~ Tadatoshi Fujimaki

My rights all spring front an infinitely nobler source - from favor and grace of God. ~ Gerrit Smith

In front of the coffee tablethere is a neon-pink stump stool, which I bought because my friend Amanda Brooks told me that every house has to have a 'wart,' or one really ugly piece. ~ Lauren Santo Domingo

There was something written in pencil in the bottom corner, smudged and faded. I leaned in until my nose was almost pressed against the glass. Narnia, it looked like.
I must have stared for a lot longer than it seemed.
A tap on the door had my jumping. "Ella?" A second later. "Um...Ella? You okay in there?"
Alex looked red-faced and startled when I jerked the door open. Even more so when I grabbed his wrist with both of my hands and pulled him into the bathroom. Another time,I might have been equally red-faced. I would definitely have been uncomfortable, even if it wasn't in a bad way. But at the moment,I was too busy in a different part of my head.
I let go of him and pointed to the sketch. "That's a Willing."
"Is it?" He didn't look particularly impressed. More relieved that I hadn't fallen and hit my head or had some similar mishap.
"Edward Willing. You have to know who Edward Willing is."
He peered past me. "Philadelphia painter. Early twentieth century, right? I was in your art history class last year,you know."
I didn't.Not really. "You were?"
"I sat in back.You sat in front. Never saw your face during class,but I remember you arguing with Evers about Dali.I remember. You don't like Dali."
"Not much."
"You like this guy?"
"Yeah." I took a breath. "Yeah.I do. And you have one of his sketches. In your guest bathroom. ~ Melissa Jensen

More than the choking heat, more than the blinding flames that rise up into the night sky, more than the endlessly leaping colours that change shape with every moment, more than all of these is the transforming power of fire. Fire takes solid wooden beams and reduces them to charcoal. It licks at everything with a scarlet tongue and leaves it black. It spreads like the folds of a golden robe over human bodies and what is left is gray and chalky: ash, blown up and up by every breath of wind only to fall like dust on the ground. When it is burning most fiercely, it seems that it might go on forever and devour everything in its path. It does not cower and withdraw in front of princes. Palace and hovel alike are good fuel and nothing more. It is unstoppable. And when it has moved, what remains is desolation. ~ Adele Geras

I think about a storm rolling in with black clouds and I visualize the lightning and try to draw energy from that, and I think: all I have to do is beat this man until he stops moving, then I can go home to my son. ~ Carlos Condit

It takes me nearly a half hour to make what should be a ten-minute trip, and by the time I pull up in front of my house, my hands are cramped from my death grip on the steering wheel.
It's not until I step out of the car, my legs feeling like they're made of Jell-O, that I notice Ryder's Durango parked in front of me.
"Where the hell have you been?" he calls out from the front porch, just as I make a mad dash to join him there. His face is red, his brow furrowed over stormy eyes. "They let us out an hour ago!"
I am really not in the mood for his crap. "Yeah, so?"
"So I was worried sick. A tornado touched down over by the Roberts' place."
"I know! I mean, I didn't know it touched down, but I was still at school when the sirens went off." I drop my ridiculously heavy backpack and shake the rain from my hair. "Is everyone okay over there?"
He runs a visibly trembling hand through his hair. "Yeah, it just tore up their fence or something. Jesus, Jemma!"
"What is wrong with you? Why are you even here?"
"I'm supposed to stay over here, remember?"
"What…now?" I look past him and notice an army-green duffel bag by the front door. He's got a key--he could've just let himself in.
"I figured now's as good a time as any. We need to put sandbags in front of the back door before it gets any worst out, and then we've got to do something about the barn. It's awful close to the creek, and the water's rising fast."
"Well, what do you prop ~ Kristi Cook

I love acting. I love stage work, more than anything. It's just live. It's right there in front of you. If you make a mistake, they know it and you know it. I won't do anything where I feel like I'm just making a fool out of myself. By doing that, I'm able to rise to my highest potential. ~ Mike Tyson

Zoe rubbed her forehead and grimaced. "America is one toll booth after another. In Noshahr I could park anything in front of our compound, but not in free America. I tried to buy a goat to roast. I am not going to tell you the trouble that caused."
"You can't roast goat in America?"
"You can roast," Zoe said, "but there are certain rules about goats. And it made the neighborhood children cry. The details are too tedious for the telephone. ~ Michael Ben Zehabe

Pioneering is never done in front of cheerleaders urging on a roaring grandstand of popular approval. ~ George Takei

The pair of them were again in the eye of a storm of misery - their world was a storm of misery and they were caught in its center, in the deceptive stillness that had allowed them to forget, once upon a time, that all around them was a stinging whirl of hatred that would catch them - it was everywhere and everything and they'd been fools to think they could leave their small safe place and not be caught in that vortex like every other living creature in Eretz. ~ Laini Taylor

I'm the most inappropriate dad. I curse in front of my kids and their friends. I let my kids watch R-rated movies. I'll walk by the movie theater and say, 'Let's go see that,' and my kids will say, 'No, it's rated R. It's not appropriate for kids.' I'm like Uncle Dad. We have fun. I don't live with them, but I drive over four days a week. ~ Marlon Wayans

My canvas soothes me into forgetfulness of the scene of turmoil and folly - and worse - of the scene around me. Every gleam of sunshine is blighted to me in the art at least. Can it therefore be wondered at that I paint continual storms? "Tempest o'er tempest roll'd" - still the "darkness" is majestic. ~ John Constable

The front room of his house was what I called 'untidy chic'. Prefects weren't subject to the same Rules on room tidiness, but since no one really enjoyed clutter, a certain style of ordered untidiness was generally considered de couleur for a prefect's room. ~ Jasper Fforde

…Josie had never grieved the loss of her own life, her own view of the world, the future she'd envisioned for herself, so many things she had never explored. She'd learned to function again, she'd moved past the worst of the trauma, every day she put one foot in front of the other and lived the new life she'd been given, but she'd never let her mind go back over the time she'd spent imprisoned, used and abused. She'd never sat with the pain of it, the loneliness, the debilitating horror, and the fear. But she did then. She didn't push the memories away as she had been doing for so long. She sat alone with every one and let each in turn be her companion. ~ Mia Sheridan

FMr. Oswald places the telescope on the desk in front of us. "This," he says proudly, "Is a Broadhurst. It was the most powerful telescope for backyard veiwing in its day."
Which was when?" Lizzy asks.
The nineteen thirties," he replies. "Isn't it a beauty? On a clear night, you could see the whole entire solar system with this one."
Unable to stop myself, I blurt out, "My very energetic mother just served us nine pizzas."
Lizzy gawks at me like I have two heads. "He's lost it; he's finally lost it. I knew this day would come."
Mr. Ozwald chuckles. "Jeremy has just given us a mnemonic device for remembering the order of the planets. ~ Wendy Mass

To get a man's attention, just stand in front of the TV and don't move. He'll talk to you. I promise. ~ Tim Allen

The rain thundered down so heavily that Pritam could imagine that space itself was made of water and was pouring through rents in the sky's tired fabric. ~ Stephen M. Irwin

I've made myself vulnerable
I've let myself care.
I've opened my firmly closed heart.
My safety is gone
It's no longer there
My protection is falling apart.

Nobody promised
Our hearts would be safe
Or our bodies protected from harm.
A moment can change
All we think that we have,
Hope will endure through the storm.

Troubling a Star
Madeleine L'Engle ~ Madeleine L'Engle

Bill Clinton was friendly and charming with just about everyone besides Hillary. He always seemed to want to give his company extra time. He was very generous that way. Like him or not, share his political ideas or not, find yourself in the same room with him, and you are hooked. You can't help but like him. But that was not Hillary. She was clearly all business, 24/7. Her private leadership style was based on pure fear and loathing - and I never saw her that turn off. Even in the president's presence, Mrs. Clinton operated at far greater than arm's length - a cheerless grifter always on her scheming way to someone or something else more important than the person directly in front of her. ~ Gary J. Byrne

When you add up the minutes you spend actually making a movie - the amount of time you spend actually doing your thing in front of a camera - it just isn't that much. But it's everything. ~ Norman Reedus

Clary curled up on the ground seeing in front of her not the shell of a destroyed town but the eyes of the brother and the sister that she would never have. ~ Cassandra Clare

The storm of revolution,' as Andre Chenier said, 'blows out the torch of poetry.' It is not for some little time that the real influence of such a wild cataclysm of things is felt: at first the desire for equality seems to have produced personalities of more giant and Titan stature than the world had ever known before. Men heard the lyre of Byron and the legions of Napoleon; it was a period of measureless passions and of measureless despair; ambition, discontent, were the chords of life and art; the age was an age of revolt: a phase through which the human spirit must pass, but one in which it cannot rest. For the aim of culture is not rebellion but peace, the valley perilous where ignorant armies clash by night being no dwelling-place meet for her to whom the gods have assigned the fresh uplands and sunny heights and clear, untroubled air. And soon that desire for perfection, which lay at the base of the Revolution, found in a young English poet its most complete and flawless realisation. ~ Oscar Wilde

I'm always impressed when seeing how much admiration people show for writers that died centuries ago, and as much as I am shocked when they totally ignore me, right in front of them. ~ Robin Sacredfire

My falling in love with spoken word poetry definitely came out of that time period where all the adults around me were failing to supply me with any answers. Everyone was too busy dealing with things that were more important. I was pretty lost and invisible. And all of a sudden, this world opened up where I could get on stage and perform in front of my peers. People would listen to me and see me, and people would say, "That thing you created was important." And that was so validating and necessary at that specific moment. ~ Sarah Kay

And even me who did know them. I - I hated being loved by them. But I couldn't run. I couldn't. It is useless to run from a storm. So I stayed. I know about storms as well as anyone. ~ Benjamin Alire Saenz

I particularly felt that my job in management was safe from the incursion of machines with friendly faces painted on the front of their heads, or whatever you call the metal constructions atop their shoulders, if those are indeed shoulders. ~ Stanley Bing

The sky is changed,-and such a change! O night And storm and darkness! ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among, Leaps the live thunder. ~ Lord Byron

The hearts of some women tremble like leaves at every breath of love which reaches them, and they are still again. Others, like the ocean, are moved only by the breath of a storm, and not so easily lulled to rest. ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

This time she is the one who leans forward. She is on her knees in front of him, grasping his shirt collar, pulling him close to her. He is clearly as startled by this as she herself is, but he allows himself to be drawn in. Their mouths meet, she moves even closer still until she is sitting on his lap takes his hands from her waist and puts them on her breasts, does everything but devour him, desperate to see if she can have something beyond her bondage with the razor.

Pictures of the accident start writhing beneath her closed lids, competing for attention with the image she holds of his face. A tidal wave of emotion threatens to engulf her. She is suddenly back in the basement with the bookcases. "I can't." Willow pushes him away. "I can't"

Willow claps her hands over her ears in a vain attempt to drown out the dreadful sounds of the accident. She jumps up, wheels away from him, fumbles in her pocket for the razor that she always keeps there. But just as she's preparing to slice, to save herself, to end the nightmare visions, Guy's hand clamps down on hers He pulls her down on the floor again roughly.

"No." He's shaking his head. "Not here. Not now. Not with me around."

"I have to." Willow is gasping. "Just let me do it!"

"All right then, you can cut yourself, but not like this, not like some concerned animal. You have to do it in front of me."

Willow doesn't flinch as she presses the blade into her flesh. S ~ Julia Hoban

A formative influence on my undergraduate self was the response of a respected elder statesmen of the Oxford Zoology Department when an American visitor had just publicly disproved his favourite theory. The old man strode to the front of the lecture hall, shook the American warmly by the hand and declared in ringing, emotional tones: 'My dear fellow, I wish to thank you. I have been wrong these fifteen years.' And we clapped our hands red. Can you imagine a Government Minister being cheered in the House of Commons for a similar admission? "Resign, Resign" is a much more likely response! ~ Richard Dawkins

In a speech today, President Obama said that Michelle Obama is very strong and talented and she frequently tells him that he is wrong. As a result, Michelle Obama is now the Republican front-runner for 2016. ~ Conan O'Brien