Neil Armstrong Quotes

That mist was thick. It was hard to see at times. The wind was wild. It'd come at me one way and hit me from the front, and hit me from the back.

Heavy Fog In Channel. Continent Cut Off.

It was dark and raining, with bad visibility, but this was Jersey, and we don't slow down for anything.

In our passage from the Cape of Good Hope the winds were mostly from the westward with very boisterous weather: but one great advantage that this season of the year has over the summer months is in being free from fogs.

The snow continues with high winds we remain at this camp to day in consequence of the weather.

Bad weather always looks worse through a window.

Western Nebraska is the only place in all my travels where I have seen the dust blowing and the rain falling at the same time.

Everything in London is quite good, apart from the weather: it's cold and rainy there, and the winter is long.

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

In this glare of brilliant emptiness, in this arid intensity of pure heat, in the heart of a weird solitude, great silence and grand desolution, all things recede to distrances out of reach, relecting light but impossible to touch, annihilating all thought and all that men have made to a spasm of whirling dust far out on the golden desert.

I used to have to wear a gas mask to school when I was a kid because of the dust. I would tell people that the first light I saw was in a movie theater, because the sun was just a little glow.

At the temple the dust of distraction seems to settle out, the fog and the haze seem to lift, and we can 'see' things that we were not able to see before and find a way through our troubles that we had not previously known.

Do you remember stormy winter?Well button up your coat, one's comin' soon

Lying is like trying to hide in a fog: If you move about you're in danger of bumping your head against the truth, and as soon as the fog blows off, you are gone anyhow.

They say funerals are not for the dead but for the living. Those rites are what permit you to move on, so if you don't deal with the remains, you can never deal with the memories. That might be true; we may have walked in their dust down on Venice Minor, but it's not the same as a proper good-bye.

About midnight the fog shut down again denser than before. One could almost "stand on it." It continued so for a number of days, the wind increasing to a gale. The waves rose high, but I had a good ship. Still, in the dismal fog I felt myself drifting into loneliness, an insect on the straw in the midst of the elements.

Before our globe had become egg-shaped or round it was a long trail of cosmic dust or fire-mist, moving and writhing like a serpent. This, say the explanations, was the Spirit of God moving on the chaos until its breath had incubated cosmic matter and made it assume the annular shape of a serpent with its tail in its month--emblem of eternity in its spiritual and of our world in its physical sense.

I must go in, the fog is rising.

Poetry is a section of river-fog and moving boat-lights, delivered between bridges and whistles, so one says, 'Oh!' and another, 'How?'

Something about me has always liked the drama and inconvience of bad weather. The worse the better, really.

When the weather's rough and it's whiskey in the rain it's best to wrap your savior up in cellophane.

I believe that every particle of dust that dances in the sunbeam does not move an atom more or less than God wishes

Stars and shadows ain't good to see by.