Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

Over the river a golden ray of sun came through the hosts of leaden rain clouds.

Clouds on clouds, in volumes driven, curtain round the vault of heaven.

I've always been fascinated by weather.

Who reports the works and ways of the clouds, those wondrous creations coming into being every day like freshly upheaved mountains?

Aren't the clouds beautiful? I could just lie here all day, and watch them drift by.

The clouds, - the only birds that never sleep.

Clouds suit my mood just fine.

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

I love the clouds... the clouds that pass by... over there... over there... those lovely clouds!

The sky is an infinite movie to me. I never get tired of looking at what's happening up there.

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 like it when it rains; I like it when it snows. I like seasons. I like trees. I like mountains. I like rivers. And with that around me, I write.

Look around you...Feel the wind, smell the air. Listen to the birds and watch the sky. Tell me what's happening in the wide world.

Though nature is constantly beautiful, she does not exhibit her highest powers of beauty constantly, for then they would satiate us and pall upon our senses. It is necessary to their appreciation that they should be rarely shown. Her finest touches are things which must be watched for; her most perfect passages of beauty are the most evanescent.

Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.

O Caledonia! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood; Land of the mountain and the flood!

The earth here is beautiful. And it still belongs to the dead.

Nature paints not; In oils, but frescoes the great dome of heaven; With sunsets, and the lovely forms of clouds; And flying vapors.

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.

Meek Nature's evening comment on the shows That for oblivion take their daily birth From all the fuming vanities of earth.

It's amazing the difference A bit of sky can make.