The Miz Quotes

I love the rain and everything about the monsoons!

Thunder only happens when it's raining.

We may achieve climate, but weather is thrust upon us.

I cannot command winds and weather.

I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.

Don't knock the weather; nine-tenths of the people couldn't start a conversation if it didn't change once in a while.

I love feeling the crispness of fall and the sensuality of spring.

I'm attempting to broaden my novels' scope through landscape and weather, leaves falling off trees, overnight storms, timeless elements which, irrespective of human endeavour, have always been there and, as long as there is life and snow, will always be there.

When I look back at my childhood on the Ayrshire coast, I recall a basic devotion to the idea that human nature and national character are as unknowable as the weather's rationale.

The climate informs the character.

Among all of our uncertainties weather is the most basic. We can’t live without it and we can’t control it.

I am never up for rain sequences because nothing can beat the excitement and thrill of natural rain.

I even like the Scottish weather because, like everywhere in the U.K., you can't have great beauty without lots of rain.

I loved watching the base of those thunderstorms, the billowing tops of the cumulonimbus, the lightning that effortlessly lit up the lake and the sky. It was gorgeous, so energetic. I was in love.

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.

I grew up in the suburbs of Connecticut - during the school time of year - but I preferred it in New Hampshire. I preferred the culture, the landscape, the relative solitude. I've always loved it.

How come it rains every Hall of Fame weekend? They need to move it to a different weekend.

everyone knows, at some level, that the sharp line between "good weather" and "bad weather" is a fiction, that we need rain as surely as we need sun.

After a day of cloud and wind and rain Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again, And touching all the darksome woods with light, Smiles on the fields until they laugh and sing, Then like a ruby from the horizon's ring, Drops down into the night.

Stormy skies, says Ernesto. He grieved for them. Summer rain. Childhood.

The hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain.

Whoa, whoa! Hold up, there, kid. She lives in Forks, remember? So she gets rained on.

The sea is the source of water and the source of wind; for neither would blasts of wind arise in the clouds and blow out from within them, except for the great sea, nor would the streams of rivers nor the rain-water in the sky exist but for the sea ; but the great sea is the begetter of clouds and winds and rivers.

Imagine you are walking down a leafy path...The sun is receding, and you are walking alone, caressed by the breezy light of the late afternoon. Then suddenly, you feel a large drop on your right arm. Is it raining? You look up. The sky is still deceptively sunny...seconds later another drop. Then, with the sun still perched in the sky, you are drenched in a shower of rain. This is how memories invade me, abruptly and unexpectedly.