Whenever you touch a poem that caresses your soul, breathe it gently for it might be the wind that perfects your life's goal.
A. SalehMots clés life poem goal wind breathe
I kept staring into the blackness of the woods, drawn into the darkness as I always had been. I suddenly realized how alone I was. (But this is how you travel, the wind whispered back, this is how you've always lived.)
Bret Easton EllisMots clés loneliness darkness travel wind
She decided to free herself, dance into the wind, create a new language. And birds fluttered around her, writing “yes” in the sky.
Monique DuvalMots clés dance freedom free wind birds monique-duval
Looking back on my life, I sigh. The caprice of youth goes with the wind, I’ve no regrets.
Roman PayneMots clés life learning carpe-diem time youth literature life-lessons wind novel regret regrets caprice roman sigh great payne roman-payne
Along with rising and falling water, winter is the province of wind. When the sea-breath and mountain-roar bend the hemlocks of these hills, the birds hang on as best they can.
Robert Michael PyleI sit alone in a dead world. The wind blows hot and dry, and the dust gathers like particles of memory waiting to be swept away. I pray for forgetfulness, yet my memory remains strong, as does the outstretched arm of the oppressive air. It seems as if the wind has been there since the beginning of the nightmare. Sometimes loud and harsh, a thousand sharp needles scratching at my reddened skin. Sometimes a whisper, a curious sigh in the black of night, of words more frightening than pain. I know now the wind has been speaking to me. Only I couldn't understand because I was too scared. I am scared now as I write these words. Still, there is nothing else to do.
Christopher PikeMots clés fear world dead memory forgetfulness alone wind nightmare needles whispers
The wind makes you ache is some place that is deeper than your bones. It may be that it touches something old in the human soul, a chord of race memory that says Migrate or die - migrate or die.
Stephen KingMots clés frost wind autumn human-soul migrate
We are candles, I remember thinking, and the wind is rising.
Lynn SchoolerMots clés existence wind nature-of-things
Air, I should explain, becomes wind when it is agitated.
LucretiusWind does not discriminate—it touches everyone, everything. He liked that about wind.
Lish McBrideMots clés wind discrimination
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