Ray Bradbury Quotes

I grew up in Seattle, where there isn't a lot of sun.

In London, a lot of the time you don't see the sun shine.

Scotland is about layering. The weather changes every 10 minutes.

In Iceland, the weather is the biggest character you deal with every day. There's nothing more relevant in your life than what kind of weather it is.

When you play in New England you have cold weather, hot weather, windy weather, or snow.

Fog is my weakness, and every time there is low fog, I am out and about with my camera.

As I walked briskly out the road the wind knifed at my face, but this sun caressed the back of my neck.

Unless an age too late, or cold Climate, or years, damp my intended wing.

In July the Sun is hot. Is it shining? No, it's not!

Summer has set in with its usual severity.

On a late-winter evening in 1983, while driving through fog along the Maine coast, recollections of old campfires began to drift into the March mist, and I thought of the Abnaki Indians of the Algonquin tribe who dwelt near Bangor a thousand years ago.

The sun shines today also.

That country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain.

I'm guessing the most efficient way would be to transfer an awful lot of technology, but also direct aid to deal with climate emergencies already underway. Hillary [Clinton] has already said $100 billion a year would be appropriate.

Your days are numbered. Use them to throw open the windows of your soul to the sun. If you do not, the sun will soon set, and you with it.

I saw Chungking for the first time more than 40 years ago - a city of hills and mists, of grays and lavenders, two rivers shaping it to a point and the cliff rising above me like a challenge.

The mist starts to form as we stand close to one another. It is a distant fog that rises from the horizon, and I find that I grow fearful as it approaches. It slowly creeps in, enveloping the world around us, fencing us in as if to prevent escape. Like a rolling cloud, it blankets everything, closing, until there is nothing left but the two of us.

To him whose elastic and vigorous thought keeps pace with the sun, the day is a perpetual morning.

Also marvelous in a room is the light that comes through the windows of a room and that belongs to the room. The sun does not realize how beautiful it is until after a room is made. A man’s creation, the making of a room, is nothing short of a miracle. Just think, that a man can claim a slice of the sun.

I am like a caricature of myself, and I like that. It is like a mask. And for me the Carnival of Venice lasts all year long.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun.

The sun was a molten coin burning a circle in the low-hanging overcast, surrounded by a fairy-ring of moisture.

Do you see that out there? The strange, unfamiliar light? It's called the sun. Let's go get us a little.

It took Einstein ten years of groping through the fog to get the theory of special relativity, and he was a bright guy.

August is a month when if it is hot weather it is really very hot.