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Rain Falling Quotes (page 3)

He’d never seen a rain quite like this so gentle that it seemed barely to fall yet slowly laid its shine on the bay leaves and hydrangea flowers… Rose Tremain
You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason. Ernest Hemingway
Are the days of winter sunshine just as sad for you, too? When it is misty, in the evenings, and I am out walking by myself, it seems to me that the rain is falling through my heart and causing it to crumble into ruins. Gustave Flaubert
Wendell Berry quote: "The cloud is free only to go with the wind. The rain is free..."
The cloud is free only to go with the wind. The rain is free only in falling. Wendell Berry
Ho! Ho! Ho! To the bottle I go. To heal my heart and drown my woe. Rain may fall, and wind may blow. And many miles be still to go. But under a tall tree will I lie. And let the clouds go sailing by J. R. R. Tolkien
As it happened, I didn't grow up to be the kind of woman who is the heroine in a Western, and although the men I have known have had many virtues and have taken me to live in many places I have come to love, they have never been John Wayne, and they have never taken me to the bend in the river where the cottonwoods grow. Deep in that part of my heart where artificial rain forever falls, that is still the line I want to hear. Joan Didion
Living, there is no happiness in that. Living: carrying one’s painful self through the world. But being, being is happiness. Being: Becoming a fountain, a fountain on which the universe falls like warm rain. Milan Kundera
What if this cursed hand were thicker than itself with brother's blood, is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens to wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy but to confront the visage of offense? And what's in prayer but this twofold force, to be forestalled ere we come to fall, or pardoned being down? Then I'll look up. My fault is past. But, O, what form of prayer can serve my tern? 'Forgive me my foul murder'? William Shakespeare
Something always turns up. It always seems darkest before the dawn. When God closes a door he opens a window. All things happen for a reason. Into every life a little rain must fall. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger. Charlaine Harris
Fare well we call to hearth and hall. Though wind may blow and rain may fall. We must away ere break of day. Over the wood and mountain tall. To Rivendell where Elves yet dwell. In glades beneath the misty fell. Through moor and waste we ride in haste. And wither then we cannot tell. With foes ahead behind us dread. Beneath the sky shall be our bed. Until at last our toil be sped. Our journey done, our errand sped. We must away! We must away! We ride before the break of day! J. R. R. Tolkien
As stone suffers of stoniness, As light of its shiningness, As birds of their wingedness, So I of my whoness. And what the cure of all this? What the not and not suffering? What the better and later of this? What the more me of me? How for the pain-world to be More world and no pain? How for the faithful rain to fall More wet and more dry? How for the wilful blood to run More salt-red and sweet-white? And how for me in my actualness To more shriek and more smile? By no other miracles, By... Laura Riding
I shake my head and the tiny acrobats fall like spangles, like the cool rain on another planet, down to the inside of my feet. Richard Hell
Jack Kerouac quote: "and rain will fall on our eaves."
and rain will fall on our eaves. Jack Kerouac
Aimee Semple McPherson quote: "Lift up your heads, ye people, lift up your faces, too, open..."
Lift up your heads, ye people, lift up your faces, too, open your mouths to sing His praise, and the rain will fall on you. Aimee Semple McPherson
SEASONS PASSED, FALL AND WINTER and spring and summer. Leaves blew in through the open door of Lucius Clarke’s shop, and rain, and the green outrageous hopeful light of spring. People came and went, grandmothers and doll collectors and little girls with their mothers. Edward Tulane waited. The seasons turned into years. Edward Tulane waited. He repeated the old doll’s words over and over until they wore a smooth groove of hope in his brain: Someone will come; someone will come for you. Kate DiCamillo

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