Plutarch Quotes

I cannot command winds and weather.

America needs to get over it. We can't control everything. We can't control the storms.

Storms make trees take deeper roots.

A merciless fate threw me into this maelstrom … the gale of the world carried me away.

History goes out of control almost as often as nature does.

Blizzards, floods, volcanoes, hurricanes, earthquakes: They fascinate because they nakedly reveal that Mother Nature, afflicted with bipolar disorder, is as likely to snuff us as she is to succor us

The storm is master. Man, as a ball, is tossed twixt winds and billows.

But I remember seeing a mess of leaves suddenly go skittering in the wind and into the creek, then floating rapidly down the creek towards the sea, making me feel a nameless horror even then of 'Oh my God, we're all being swept away to sea no matter what we know or say or do

Skillful pilots gain their reputation from storms and tempest.

Life, unfortunately, doesn't seem to care what we want.

How often is the passing of one storm only a prelude to another.

They say that life's a game, & then they take the board away.

Blame is especially useful in situations in which there is no apparent villain-those moments that prove, despite our advancement of learning, how susceptible we are to high winds and wet roads.

Mud and rain and wretchedness and blood. Why should jolly soldier-boys complain? God made these before the roofless Flood - Mud and rain.

The Gods in bounty work up storms about us, that give mankind occasion to exert their hidden strength, and throw our into practice virtues that shun the day, and lie concealed in the smooth seasons and the calms of life.

Things are tough all over, cupcake, an' it rains on the just an' the unjust alike...except in California.

Life is a game of piquet played in a bramble bush in very bad weather.

Some days you tame the tiger, and some days the tiger has you for lunch.

A violent wind does not last for a whole morning.

The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day. When the sun is out and the wind is still, You're one month on in the middle of May. But if you so much as dare to speak, a cloud come over the sunlit arch, And wind comes off a frozen peak, And you're two months back in the middle of March.

That wind. I see it's blowing now. Furtive but commanding, it has dictated every move we've ever made. My mother felt it, and so do I - even here, even now - as it sweeps us like leaves into his backseat corner, dancing us to shreds against the stones. V'la l'bon vent, v'a l'joli vent. I though we'd silenced it for good. But the smallest thing can wake the wind@ a word, a sign, even a death. There's no such thing as a trivial thing. Everything costs; it all adds up until finally the balance shifts and we're gone again, back on the road, telling ourselves - well maybe next time

I'm tired, it's raining, and I am not a waterlily.

Some are weatherwise, some are otherwise.