All was silent as before - All silent save the dripping rain
Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky
Let the rain kiss you.† Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.† Let the rain sing you a lullaby
All we need is a meteorologist who has once been soaked to the skin without ill effect. No one can write knowingly of the weather who walks bent over on wet days.†
If you want to see the sunshine, you have to weather the storm.
What was so good about it was that the set that they originally built stayed there, and weathered over the five years. It got five summers and five winters of weather. It became more and more authentic as we worked in it, and they added bits to it.†
One need only think of the weather, in which case the prediction even for a few days ahead is impossible
Rainbows apologize for angry skies.
To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring
It is one of the secrets of Nature in its mood of mockery that fine weather lays heavier weight on the mind and hearts of the depressed and the inwardly tormented than does a really bad day with dark rain sniveling continuously and sympathetically from a dirty sky
There is no season such delight can bring As summer, autumn, winter and the spring
No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, Watches beside me in this windy place
Rain! whose soft architectural hands have power to cut stones, and chisel to shapes of grandeur the very mountains.
Many a man curses the rain that falls upon his head, and knows not that it brings abundance to drive away the hunger
There's always a period of curious fear between the first sweet-smelling breeze and the time when the rain comes cracking down
Tell me how many beads there are In a silver chain Of evening rain, Unravelled from the tumbling main
There is a muscular energy in sunlight corresponding to the spiritual energy of wind
For the man sound in body and serene of mind there is no such thing as bad weather; every day has its beauty, and storms which whip the blood do but make it pulse more vigorously
The best kind of rain, of course, is a cozy rain.† This is the kind the anonymous medieval poet makes me remember, the rain that falls on a day when you'd just as soon stay in bed a little longer, write letters or read a good book by the fire, take early tea with hot scones and jam and look out the streaked window with complacency
The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event.† You go to bed in one kind of a world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment then where is it to be found?
Any proverbs about weather are doubly true during a storm.
The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches.
Rain showers my spirit and waters my soul.
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