Weather Quotes

“Rain always seems to me like a thousand little kisses from Heaven.

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Regen kommen mir doch immer vor wie tausend kleine Küsschen aus dem Himmel.”
― Elke Heinrich

“My ducks and I survived The Great Ozarks Cloudy Day With Scattered Rain of 6/6/22. Thank you for all your prayers. I should make a T-shirt commemorating the whole ordeal.”
― Jarod Kintz, Music is fluid, and my saxophone overflows when my ducks slosh in the sounds I make in elevators.

“Clouds are never cold
(Don't let yourself be influenced by circumstances)”
― Erik Tanghe

“If I could decide on the weather, there would be many foggy mornings and dark days full of wind, rain, snow and cold... all this for you would be your last burden of my selfishness.”
― Rolf van der Wind

“My bedroom is separated from the main body of my house so that I have to go outside and cross some pseudo-Japanese stepping stones in order to go to sleep at night. Often I get rained on a little bit on my way to bed. It’s a benediction. A good night kiss.

Romantic? Absolutely. And nothing to be ashamed of. If reality is a matter of perspective, then the romantic view of the world is as valid as any other - and a great deal more rewarding. It makes of life and unpredictable adventure rather that a problematic equation. Rain is the natural element for romanticism. A dripping fir is a hundred times more sexy than a sunburnt palm tree, and more primal and contemplative, too. A steady, wind-driven rain composed music for the psyche. It not only nurtures and renews, it consecrates and sanctifies. It whispers in secret languages about the primordial essence of things.

Obviously, then, the Pacific Northwest's customary climate is perfect for a writer. It's cozy and intimate. Reducing temptation (how can you possibly play on the beach or work in the yard?), it turns a person inward, connecting them with what Jung called "the bottom below the bottom," those areas of the deep unconscious into which every serious writer must spelunk. Directly above my writing desk there is a skylight. This is the window, rain-drummed and bough-brushed, through which my Muse arrives, bringing with her the rhythms and cadences of cloud and water, not to mention the latest catalog from Victoria's Secret and the twenty-three auxiliary verbs.

Oddly enough, not every local author shares my proclivity for precipitation. Unaware of the poetry they're missing, many malign the mist as malevolently as they non-literary heliotropes do. They wring their damp mitts and fret about rot, cursing the prolonged spillage, claiming they're too dejected to write, that their feet itch (athlete's foot), the roof leaks, they can't stop coughing, and they feel as if they're slowly being digested by an oyster.

Yet the next sunny day, though it may be weeks away, will trot out such a mountainous array of pagodas, vanilla sundaes, hero chins and god fingers; such a sunset palette of Jell-O, carrot oil, Vegas strip, and Kool-Aid; such a sea-vista display of broad waters, firred islands, whale spouts, and boat sails thicker than triangles in a geometry book, that any and all memories of dankness will fizz and implode in a blaze of bedazzled amnesia. "Paradise!" you'll hear them proclaim as they call United Van Lines to cancel their move to Arizona.”
― Tom Robbins, Wild Ducks Flying Backward

“Summer was always the worst season. Everyone always complained about winter, but winter was simple, you just didn't go outside. Summer always tried to sneak in where it was not wanted.”
― Katherena Vermette, The Strangers

“Storms rinse the sky...”
― Anthony Doerr, All the Light We Cannot See

“The masses don't have a clue about how bad climate change really is. It is driving the pandemics and increasingly severe weather events and things are going to get much worse than what we have already seen.”
― Steven Magee

“It was very cold that afternoon, whipping wind, and the city seemed to mirror my mood, which was gray and bleak.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, To Paradise

“It was morning again and the air was light and sweet. Silver hoarfrost cloaked golden leaves, and cobwebs were wreathed upon dewy grass and shrubs. There was a hint of snow on distant hills on the moor-side of this place, and to both sides of the slim river that moved between the harvested fields bloomed winter flowers.”
― Chiara Kilian, The First Tale of the Tinners' Rabbits

“They're kidding themselves, of course. Our sky can go from lapis to tin in the blink of an eye. Blink again and your latte's diluted. And that's just fine with me. I thrive here on the certainty that no matter how parched my glands, how anhydrous the creek beds, how withered the weeds in the lawn, it's only a matter of time before the rains come home.

The rains will steal down from the Sasquatch slopes. They will rise with the geese from the marshes and sloughs. Rain will fall in sweeps, it will fall in drones, it will fall in cascades of cheap Zen jewelry.

And it will rain a fever. And it will rain a sacrifice. And it will rain sorceries and saturnine eyes of the totem.

Rain will primitivize the cities, slowing every wheel, animating every gutter, diffusing commercial neon into smeary blooms of esoteric calligraphy. Rain will dramatize the countryside, sewing pearls into every web, winding silk around every stump, redrawing the horizon line with a badly frayed brush dipped in tea and quicksilver.

And it will rain an omen. And it will rain a trance. And it will rain a seizure. And it will rain dangers and pale eggs of the beast.

Rain will pour for days unceasing. Flooding will occur. Wells will fill with drowned ants, basements with fossils. Mossy-haired lunatics will roam the dripping peninsulas. Moisture will gleam on the beak of the Raven. Ancient shamans, rained from their rest in dead tree trunks, will clack their clamshell teeth in the submerged doorways of video parlors. Rivers will swell, sloughs will ferment. Vapors will billow from the troll-infested ditches, challenging windshield wipers, disgusing intentions and golden arches. Water will stream off eaves and umbrellas. It will take on the colors of beer signs and headlamps. It will glisten on the claws of nighttime animals.

And it will rain a screaming. And it will rain a rawness. And it will rain a disorder, and hair-raising hisses from the oldest snake in the world.

Rain will hiss on the freeways. It will hiss around the prows of fishing boats. It will hiss in the electrical substations, on the tips of lit cigarettes, and in the trash fires of the dispossessed. Legends will wash from desecrated burial grounds, graffiti will run down alley walls. Rain will eat the old warpaths, spill the huckleberries, cause toadstools to rise like loaves. It will make poets drunk and winos sober, and polish the horns of the slugs.

And it will rain a miracle. And it will rain a comfort. And it will rain a sense of salvation from the philistinic graspings of the world.

Yes, I am here for the weather. And when I am lowered at last into a pit of marvelous mud, a pillow of fern and skunk cabbage beneath my skull, I want my epitaph to read, IT RAINED ON HIS PARADE, AND HE WAS GLAD!”
― Tom Robbins, Wild Ducks Flying Backward

“Whether the weather is withering or wuthering; it’s climate change.”
― Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma, Climate Flip - Climate Risk Reporting In Banks

“Once a climate change; twice, a climate risk.”
― Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma, Climate Flip - Climate Risk Reporting In Banks

“Climate is an invisible currency; the speed it is being spent at humanity will go bankrupt soon.”
― Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma, Climate Flip - Climate Risk Reporting In Banks

“To control climate change, solutions have to evolve faster than the problem.”
― Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma, Climate Flip - Climate Risk Reporting In Banks

“Count your footprints; carbon ones.”
― Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma, Climate Flip - Climate Risk Reporting In Banks

“U-turn for climate change, not possible; right turn, with or by right drivers, definitely is.”
― Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma, Climate Flip - Climate Risk Reporting In Banks

“The severity of climate risk depends on the reversibility of the damage.”
― Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma, Climate Flip - Climate Risk Reporting In Banks

“Climate-related risk regulations are late, but better late than never.”
― Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma, Climate Flip - Climate Risk Reporting In Banks

“Climate change is not just a problem, but a product, with costs and benefits.”
― Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma, Climate Flip - Climate Risk Reporting In Banks

“Five best steps to control climate risk are identify, evaluate, act, act and act.”
― Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma, Climate Flip - Climate Risk Reporting In Banks

“The formula to climate risk resolution; (re)baseline, improvise, repeat.”
― Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma, Climate Flip - Climate Risk Reporting In Banks

“Countries, divided by regulations, united by one goal; climate change.”
― Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma, Climate Flip - Climate Risk Reporting In Banks

“One globe, one goal, go green.”
― Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma, Climate Flip - Climate Risk Reporting In Banks

“Act before climate change turns into climate flip.”
― Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma, Climate Flip - Climate Risk Reporting In Banks

“To stop climate change, be the change.”
― Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma, Climate Flip - Climate Risk Reporting In Banks

“It was the sort of morning that was simply lovely to look at, but felt rather nasty if you had to work out of doors all the time, especially if the soles of your shoes had holes in them.”
― Chiara Kilian, The First Tale of the Tinners' Rabbits

“Then came the first hint of fog, all silver and gold, and then more and more, turning grey and blue. Fog like that was beautiful, and it was dangerous, for you could get lost in it easily.”
― Chiara Kilian, The First Tale of the Tinners' Rabbits

“It does not look good for a child today going into the future.”
― Steven Magee

“The hurricane is the black hole of weather.”
― Steven Magee