My car rides smooth like I’m driving a cloud. If I park it at your house, I may get rainwater on your living room carpet.

There’s something beautiful about keeping certain aspects of your life hidden. Maybe people and clouds are beautiful because you can’t see everything.

And when I fall in love,” I began, “I will build a mountain to touch the sky. Then, my lover and I will have the best of both worlds, reality firmly under our feet, while we have our heads in the clouds with all our illusions still intact. And the purple grass will grow all...

At dawn the waves looked like mountain ranges tipped with gold as sunbeams slanted low under burgundy clouds.

Clouds are high flying Fog

After midday, the rain eased, and the Land Rover rode into Pokhara on a shaft of storm light. Next day there was humid sun and shifting southern skies, but to the north a deep tumult of swirling grays was all that could be seen of the Himalaya. At dusk, white egrets flapped across the sunken...

Yesterday I inhaled a cloud, and immediately my eyes started raining.

Be like a star and shine, whether people care or do not care; the clouds are temporary, but your beauty is permanent.

There is bound to be turbulence in the clouds of confusion before one can view the friendly skies, and an illuminated landing strip.

Rain Factory,” because he’s always either in a dark and stormy mood, or crying heavily.

For a second I was almost jealous of the clouds. Why was he looking to them for an escape when I was right here beside him?

Change your life experiences through the thoughts you think.Practice thinking good thoughts and your life will reflect what you are thinking.We have the blessing of choice.

Outside the window, a bank of clouds appeared on the horizon, inching slowly across the sky, finally slipping across the Moon and blocking out its radiant light. As he clicked off his overhead light, he turned his eyes one last time to the heavens. Outside, in the newly fallen darkness, the world had been transformed....

When I could hold my eyes open long enough, I did stare up at the rain pelting down on me. I’ve never looked at it like that, straight up into the sky, and while I flinched more than I could actually see, when I could see it was absolutely beautiful. Like each drop rocketing towards...

…the bones of cirrus clouds stand out like ribs against the sky – an angel is stretching…

I had a dream about you. The blue sky matched the blue in your eyes, though you had a few more clouds in your irises. When you got sad, you didn’t cry—you rained, and that’s why I approached you to try to sell you a nose umbrella, something that I had just invented.

The sun was as flirty as Scarlett O’Hara with the Tarleton twins, breaking through the clouds in spectacular bursts that seemed like personal favors and then retreating for hours, days, and making us all ache for just a glimpse.

It is a very beautiful day. The woman looks around and thinks: ‘there cannot ever have been a spring more beautiful than this. I did not know until now that clouds could be like this. I did not know that the sky is the sea and that clouds are the souls of happy ships, sunk...

The party was dry, she was wet, and the sky was in the middle (cloudy, but no rain). Love was in the air, and that’s why I brought an umbrella.

The story of two dreams is a coincidence, a line drawn by chance, like the shapes of lions or horses that are sometimes formed by clouds.

What a strange thing it is to wake up to a milk-white overcast June morning! The sun is hidden by a thick cotton blanket of clouds, and the air is vapor-filled and hazy with a concentration of blooming scent.The world is somnolent and cool, in a temporary reprieve from the normal heat and radiance.But the...

God is a cloud from which rain fell.

A few nights later, I secretly hope that I might be a genius. Why else can no amount of sleeping pills fell my brain? But in the morning my daughter asks me what a cloud is and I cannot say.

How small and neat and comically serious the other men looked, with their grey-flecked crew cuts and their button-down collars and their brisk little hurrying feet! There were endless desperate swarms of them, hurrying through the station and the streets, and an hour from now they would all be still. The waiting mid-town office buildings...

Complains are like the clouds that give no rain no matter how thick they gather.

The sky in Seattle is so low, it felt like God had lowered a silk parachute over us. Every feeling I ever knew was up in that sky. Twinkling joyous sunlight; airy, giggle cloud wisps; blinding columns of sun. Orbs of gold, pink. flesh, utterly cheesy in their luminosity. Gigantic puffly clouds, welcoming, forgiving, repeating...

The sun always shines above the clouds.

On cloudy days I just want to raise my arm up, stand on my toes, and screw a light bulb into the sky. Don’t worry, my light bulb is energy efficient—it runs on solar power.

Having your head in the clouds is not a bad thing… as long as you take advantage of the inspiration you find while you’re there.

Tracy had never been so conscious of the sky above the earth, the dangerous clouds that gathered there, the way humans lived beneath such grandeur and threat every moment of their lives.

The clouds are like marble in the sky, and I just want to make a kitchen counter out of the atmosphere. I can cook like a flock of birds.

The humble Cumulus humilis – never hurt a soul.

Astronomers are greatly disappointed when, having traveled halfway around the world to see an eclipse, clouds prevent a sight of it; and yet a sense of relief accompanies the disappointment.

The clouds rolled over the hills like a pack of midgets wearing gray togas somersaulting in unison, and I thought it’s a glorious day to be alive and in love.

Like the kite that caught up to the sky,painted with clouds, I lost track of it, but it was connected by string, something I was holding, something I could always bring back.

Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.

I run like I have cirrus clouds for legs and rainbow knees. What is life, if not a marathon of love?

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.

A few flat clouds folded themselves like crepes over fillings of apricot sky. Pompadours of supper-time smoke billowed from chimneys, separating into girlish pigtails as the breeze combed them out, above the slate rooftops. Chestnut blossoms, weary from having been admired all day, wore faint smiles of anticipation.

manner farms” on the clouds.

It stood calm against the suburban storm raging around it. The thunder screamed across the sky; it slapped the clouds into a heated turmoil that flew towards the south.

Gray.The overcast skies had the colour of deadened stones, and seemed closer than usually, as though they were phlegmatically observing my every movement with their apathetic emptily blue-less eyes; each tiny drop of hazy rain drifting around resembled transparent molten steel, the pavement looked like it was about to burst into disconsolate tears, even the...

Get your head out of the clouds. Stop huffing the atmosphere.

My experiences remind me that it’s those black clouds that make the blue skies even more beautiful.

I live there…Far above the song-filled clouds,where the dewdrops touch my skin so bareI live there.

I am love, I love air, water, sun, green, hands, butterflies, birds, fish, cats, trees, you – walking, swimming, dancing, exploring new places, exploring tiny things, exploring thoughts, dreams, bigger than me dreams, like cloud dreams, like mountains, dreams I walk into, play with, laugh, roll downhill with, climb back up again sometimes, just lie...

The air up there in the clouds is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious. And why shouldn’t it be?–it is the same the angels breathe.

I just invented a hug machine. It’s solar powered so you can use it when you feel depressed, like on a cloudy day. Shit.

I think the most heavenly food is fluffy white clouds.

The sun tells the best joke of a day full of them, setting so spectacularly that you can almost smell the tropical paradise lazing somewhere over this rim of endless, gray socialist towers. Miles of square windows explode orange, red, and purple, like a million TV sets broadcasting the apocalypse. Clouds unspool. The sky drains...