#rain

It always smelled like it was raining outside, even if it wasn't, and you were in the only nice, dry, cosy place in the world. ↗

— J.D. Salinger

#rain

I was gawky and she was gorgeous and I was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was hurricane. ↗

— John Green

#looking-for-alaska #rain

Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. ↗

— Charles Dickens

#tears #rain

Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader -- not the fact that it is raining, but the feeling of being rained upon. ↗

— E.L. Doctorow

#rain

He turned to look just in time to see the rain start falling out as if the storm had finally decided to weep with shame for what it had done to them. ↗

— James Dashner

#storm #trials

He wanted to fuck her loudly on a hard bed with rain beating on the windows. ↗

— Don DeLillo

#sexuality #rain

Rain drops are not the ones who bring the clouds. ↗

— Sorin Cerin

#rain #wisdom-quote #love

en la lluvia, cuando le recuerdo. ↗

— Sitta Karina

#rain #love

My head ached. I was thinking of the pain, and wondering how it was possible for physical agony to be so intense. I had never imagined that such a torture could be endured. Yet here was I, both conscious and able to think clearly. And not only to think, but to observe the process and make calculations about it. The steel circle round my skull was closing in with faint cracking noises. How much farther could it shrink? I counted the cracking sounds. Since I took the triple dose of pain-killer, there had been two more. …I took out my watch and laid it on the table. “Give me morphia,” I said in a calm, hostile, icy tone. “You mustn’t take morphia! You know perfectly well. The very idea! And what are you doing with that watch?” “You will give me morphia within three minutes.” They looked me uneasily up and down. No one moved. Three minutes went by. Then ten more. I slipped the watch calmly into my pocket and rose unsteadily to my feet. “Then take me to the Fiakker Bar. They say it’s a good show, and to-night I want to enjoy myself.” The others jumped up with a feeling of relief. I never confessed the secret to anyone, either then or afterwards. I had made up my mind at the end of those three minutes — for the first and last time in my life — that if my headache had not stopped within the next ten I should throw myself under the nearest tram. It never came out whether I should have kept to my resolve, for the pain left with the suddenness of lighting. ↗

— Frigyes Karinthy

#headache #pain #suicide #imagination

So far I had been travelling alone with my handbook and my Western Railway timetable: I was happiest finding my own way and did not require a liaison man. It had been my intention to stay on the train, without bothering about arriving anywhere: sight-seeing was a way of passing the time, but, as I had concluded in Istanbul, it was an activity very largely based on imaginative invention, like rehearsing your own play in stage sets from which all the actors had fled. ↗

— Paul Theroux

#sight-seeing #train-travel #travel #imagination