Atmospheric Condition Quotes

A fair day in winter is the mother of a storme.

I want people to feel the heat while they walk down the street and they're just kickin' it.

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

Is the sea drying up? It is going up into mist and coming down on us in this water spout, the rain. It raineth every day, and the weather represents our tearful despair on a large scale.

Every season, really, has their own chemistry.

At twilight time the smog makes a rainbow.

I can look up in the air and see where the wind is gonna change direction.

We live inside the atmosphere of an active star.

It was a nice day, and I don't mean that it was sunny either. It was humid and not too cool, like winter was getting annoyed with itself and wanted it to be spring just as much as everyone else.

It was one of those humid days when the atmosphere gets confused. Sitting on the porch, you could feel it: the air wishing it was water.

Weather creates character.

But certain winds will make men's temper bad.

Wind ought to be a verb or an adverb. It isn't really anything. It's a manner of movement of warmth and cold: a kind of information system of the air.

Landscape affects you.

I love the rain. It's my favorite weather.

There are some mornings when the sky looks like a road.

The rain comes when the wind calls.

There is a moonlight note in the Moonlight Sonata; there is a thunder note in an angry sky.

A sudden gust: How big the world seems in a wind.

Truly and clearly, the climate changes.

All sounds are sharper in winter; the air transmits better. At night I hear more distinctly the steady roar of the North Mountain. In summer it is a sort of complacent purr, as the breezes stroke down its sides; but in winter always the same low, sullen growl.

The English mist is always at work like a subtle painter, and London is a vast canvas prepared for the mist to work on.

Expecting rain, the profile of a day Wears its soul like a hat.

The cloud controls the light ... It is the cloud that, holding the sun's rays in a sheaf as a giant holds a handful of spears, strikes the horizon, touches the extreme edge with a delicate revelation of light, or suddenly puts it out and makes the foreground shine.