Quotes
Quotes about Sky
Oh, East is East and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment Seat.
There's a magic in the distance, where the sea-line meets the sky.
A charge to keep I have,
A God to glorify;
A never dying soul to save,
And fit it for the sky.
My life is like the summer rose
That opens to the morning sky,
But ere the shades of evening close
Is scattered on the ground--to die.
What now if the sky were to fall?
When it is evening, ye say it will be fair weather: for the sky is red.
My name in the sky burning for ever, fame fixed by fate never to die
Mexico, Mexico - a good place to die is Mexico, under a harsh blue sky ... an excellent place to die, come some day and try
Was never true love loved in vain, For truest love is highest gain. No art can make it: it must spring Where elements are fostering. So in heaven's spot and hour Springs the little native flower, Downward root and upward eye, Shapen by the earth and sky.
If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you!
Once you have flown, you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward; for there you have been, there you long to return.
Oft in the tranquil hour of night, When stars illume the sky, I gaze upon each orb of light, And wish that thou wert by.
Be humble, if thou would'st attain to Wisdom. Be humbler still, when Wisdom thou hast mastered. -Helena Petrova Blavatsky.
The Astronomer An astronomer used to go out at night to observe the stars. One evening, as he wandered through the suburbs with his whole attention fixed on the sky, he fell accidentally into a deep well. While he lamented and bewailed his sores and bruises, and cried loudly for help, a neighbor ran to the well, and learning what had happened said: Hark ye, old fellow, why, in striving to pry into what is in heaven, do you not manage to see what is on earth?'.
Old age is the most unexpected of all the things that happen to a man. -Leon Trotsky.
Dick Cheney blows birds out of the sky for pleasure but he drops bombs on Iraqi children for power.
He who owns the soil, owns up to the sky. [Lat., Cujus est solum, ejus est usque ad coelum.]
E'en in mid-harvest, while the jocund swain Pluck'd from the brittle stalk the golden grain, Oft have I seen the war of winds contend, And prone on earth th' infuriate storm descend, Waste far and wide, and by the roots uptorn, The heavy harvest sweep through ether borne, As light straw and rapid stubble fly In dark'ning whirlwinds round the wintry sky.
The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast; And the woods against a stormy sky, Their giant branches toss'd.
When April winds Grew soft, the maple burst into a flush Of scarlet flowers. The tulip tree, high up, Opened in airs of June her multiple OF golden chalices to humming birds And silken-wing'd insects of the sky.
Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas Of wheat, rye, barley, fetches, oats, and pease; Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep, And flat meads thatched with stover, them to keep; Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims, Which spongy April at thy hest betrims To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom groves, Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves, Being lasslorn; thy pole-clipt vineyard; And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard, Where thou thyself dost air--the queen o' th' sky, Whose wat-ry arch and messenger am I, Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign grace, Here on this grass-plot, in this very place, To come and sport: her peacocks fly amain. Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.
From the shore.. one looks upward to the sanddune grass.. 10,000 green brushes attempting where they laid to paint the blue sky jade.
The hair she means to have is gold, Her eyes are blue, she's twelve weeks old, Plump are her fists and pinky. She fluttered down in lucky hour From some blue deep in yon sky bower-- I call her "Little Dinky."
On the beach at night, Stands a child with her father, Watching the east, the autumn sky. Up through the darkness, While ravening clouds, the burial clouds, in black masses spreading, Lower sullen and fast athwart and down the sky, Amid a transparent clear belt of ether yet left in the east, Ascends large and calm the lord-star Jupiter, And nigh at hand, only a very little above, Swim the delicate sisters the Pleiades. From the beach the child holding the hand of her father, Those burial-clouds that lower victorious soon to devour all, Watching, silently weeps. Weep not, child, Weep not, my darling, With these kisses let me remove your tears, The ravening clouds shall not long be victorious, They shall not long possess the sky, they devour the stars only in apparition, Jupiter shall emerge, be patient, watch again another night, the Pleiades shall emerge, They are immortal, all those stars both silvery and golden shall shine out again, The great stars and the little ones shall shine out again, they endure, The vast immortal suns and the long-enduring pensive moons shall again shine. Then dearest child mournest thou only for jupiter? Considerest thou alone the burial of the stars? Something there is, (With my lips soothing thee, adding I whisper, I give thee the first suggestion, the problem and indirection,) Something there is more immortal even than the stars, (Many the burials, many the days and nights, passing away,) Something that shall endure longer even than lustrous Jupiter Longer than sun or any revolving satellite, Or the radiant sisters the Pleiades.
Ring out, will bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light.
