Unpleasant Weather Quotes

November is the most disagreeable month in the whole year.

I've been to L.A., it's horrible. Don't waste your money on the flight.

It looks like a bothering sort of day.

Fine!" muttered Mogget. "Wet, cold, and full of holes. Another fun day on the river.

The sky was a cold iron-grey, like the underside of a shield. A sharp breeze lifted the hems of skirts and rattled the leaves on the immature trees; a spiteful, chill wind that sought out your weakest places, the nape of your neck and your knees, and which denied you the comfort of dreaming, of retreating a little from reality.

August used to be a sad month for me. As the days went on, the thought of school starting weighed heavily upon my young frame. That, coupled with the oppressive heat and humidity of my native Washington, D.C., only seemed to heighten the misery.

It's cold and it's mean spirited and I don't like it here anymore.

I know of no place where the wind can be as icy and the damp so penetrating as in Oxford round about Easter time.

What's shocking to me is seeing people walking around with green juices in their hand when the weather's bad in New York. I couldn't think of anything more awful to have when it's sleeting outside. Like, 'Oh, I'm craving some liquified kale right now.'

Off Cape Horn there are but two kinds of weather, neither one of them a pleasant kind.

It's turning out to be a bad day, a day when the sun feels like teeth.

It was that kind of a crazy afternoon, terrifically cold, and no sun out or anything, and you felt like you were disappearing every time you crossed a road.

You don't want to be outside during blackfly season.

I didn't come out until 5 or 6 o'clock in the evening. Sleep all day, sleep and cook and eat, stay in the house. That sun is hot, anyway. It ain't right out there.

August, the summer's last messenger of misery, is a hollow actor.

Really, I didn't like Alaska. It rained, almost every day, at least 300 days out of the year.