Your chances of getting struck by lightning go up if you stand under a tree, shake your fist at the sky, and say Storms suck!
comedy storms
She had storms all her life, but she died peacefully.
death peace storms suzanne-lenglen
Disasters work like alarm clocks to the world, hence God allows them. They are shouting, 'Wake up! Love! Pray!
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Do we not each dream of dreams? Do we not dance on the notes of lostmemories? Then are we not each dreamers of tomorrow and yesterday, since dreamsplay when time is askew? Are we not all adrift in the constant sea of trial and when all is done, do we not all yearn for ships to carry us home?
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Call me crazy, but there is something terribly wrong with this city.
All is as if the world did cease to exist. The city's monuments go unseen, its past unheard, and its culture slowly fading in the dismal sea.
Did Bach ever eatpancakes at midnight?
I rouse Emily to our guests, as she finishes off our fifteenth snowman by setting the head atop its torso. She stands limp at my direction, pointing out the coming shadows and I cannot help but hear a muffled sigh as she decapitates her latest creation with a single push of her hand.
I steal one glance over my shoulder as soon as we are far from the foreboding luminance of the neon glow, and it is there that my stomach leaps into my throat. Squatting just shy of the light and partially concealed by the shade of an alley is a sinister silhouette beneath a crimson cowl, beaming a demonic smile which spans from cheek to swollen cheek.
No debt Her eyes lapse into a stare. No debt someday when all thedreams are gonediscovered for when will that be, Samuel? Three times andthen declines forever.
Heed that the Rue du Bourreau is my domain, and I its malicious sovereign.
The quarrels of lovers are like summer storms. Everything is more beautiful when they have passed.
beautiful lovers storms summer
..I don't just wish you rain, Beloved - I wish you the beauty of storms..
beauty rain storms transformation
Cry no tears for us, my friend. I pry at her fingers, panicking to be released in fear that she may drag me into death with her. She croaks again, Lend no aches to the dreams of yesterday. From the corpse of Warren, his greyish gums smack from whatever goo has settled in his mouth, Allow the tide sweep free the bay. Then together they sing in zombie choir, And home the ships sailing send.
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I hate it when storm clouds roll in, heralded by dazzling claps of thunder and lightning that boast an ocean of tears. This majestic performance of bad temper manages to overshadow my pathetic attempts at pouting. No one broods like Mother Nature, hence she steals all the attention I was sulking after.
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