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Quotes about storm

Emily Dickinson

The Rainbow Never Tells Me

The rainbow never tells me
That gust and storm are by,
Yet is she more convincing
Than Philosophy.

My flowers turn from Forums—
Yet eloquent declare
What Cato couldn't prove me
Except the birds were here!

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Emily Dickinson

“Hope” is the thing with feathers

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.

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Izumi Shikibu

Neither the coldest
autumn wind
it could hurt me
as this spring storm
dispersing petals.

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After tea it's back to painting - a large poplar at dusk with a gathering storm. From time to time instead of this evening painting session I go bowling in one of the neighbouring villages, but not very often.

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Christmas Cabin Fever

Wear a brown hat like a snow-man
Sleep with the dogs in the snow
While the Northern Lights are turning
And the moon tells all she knows.

Tell me you’re not leaving
Tell me you’re content
But you’re shaking like a flower
So cold and oh so wet.

You’re my snow-storm baby
So out of touch
You’re so ruthless, baby
But the snowman has a crutch.

The children light their candles
Their daddy says his prayers
If dreams are just to bury
Tomorrow comes despair.

[...] Read more

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A Tailor who sailed from Quebec,
In a storm ventur'd once upon deck,
But the waves of the sea,
Were as strong as could be,
And he tumbled in up to his neck.

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Carmen Sylva

The Gnat

A long-legged gnat with airy wings, a dart
Sharp as a needle and a searching tusk,
Was flutt'ring round my lamp, clung to my bookshelf,
And wandered over papers. Then I blew
On it, to chase it far away. But no,
Beneath the tempest of my breath it clung
Still faster to the paper's slender shelter
And moved not, till I thought my breath had killed it.
We watched each other; then it flew away.
I thought how Fate and we thus ofttimes watch
Each other, till Fate blow us into atoms,
And we remain in some weak place, in Death's
Suspense, not knowing if again the storm
Will blow. But Fate is careless and will let
Us go, if but the wings that are to take
Us hence are still untorn, unsinged, uncrushed;
Or else we creep along and die unseen,
A wingless worm, not understanding what
Those papers and those shelves contain that are
No revelation, nought but a grave, whilst others

[...] Read more

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Carmen Sylva

A Room

Whitewashed or panelled, filled with books, with light,
With flowers, with trifles sacred to the heart,
And work so pure and sweet that morning-dew
Might settle there and feel itself at home
As though 'mid garden fragrance; while the carol
Of birds streams through the window joyously,
Mistaking that abode of peace and love
For their own woodland haunts! And in that room
A woman's dainty hands ever at work,
A woman's loving heart ever awake
For others' happiness, a woman's thought
Alive in tender memories that embalm
The past in mute forgiveness. Enter then
As 'twere a sanctuary, lay aside
Thy load of care, and yield thy weary soul
To the deep sense of comfort reigning there.
Not many words--nay, not a single word--
Need tremble through the stillness, not a sigh
With untoward avowal break the peace
That folds thee to its heart and asks no question.

[...] Read more

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Carmen Sylva

Down the Stream

From whence the brook? From where the waters gather
In mountains' deep recesses, stone-black lakes
And dripping crevices. It ripples forth
Into the shining day with scarce a voice,
And with no strength at all, till mountain showers
And winter's snow and spring storms pour their flood
Into the dancing brook, that foams and starts
And rushes headlong down the steeps and throws
Into the Unknown all its youth and strength,
And thunders into hell, to rise again
In sheets of whiteness into dreamy veils,
To kiss the flowers' feet and overflow
The meadows; thence, o'erbridged and caught and fastened
To wheels, to grind and grind with irksome noise,
To lose all liberty, all winsome frolic,
And work till doomsday. On and on the stream
Goes widening into calm and mighty strength,
A hero of a stream, that bears the ships
Like toys, and carries legions.
Wider still

[...] Read more

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Albert Einstein

A storm broke loose in my mind.

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