#weather

And what do you really do? asked Tiffany. The thin witch hesitatied for a moment, and then: We look to ... the edges, said Mistress Weatherwax. There's a lot of edges, more than people know. Between life and death, this world and the next, night and day, right and wrong ... an' they need watchin'. We watch 'em, we guard the sum of things. And we never ask for any reward. That's important. ↗

— Terry Pratchett

#tiffany-aching #death

Dangerous and indifferent ground: against its fixed mass the tragedies of people count for nothing although the signs of misadventure are everywhere. No past slaughter nor cruelty, no accident nor murder that occurs on the little ranches or at the isolate crossroads with their bare populations of three or seventeen, or in the reckless trailer courts of mining towns delays the flood of morning light. Fences, cattle, roads, refineries, mines, gravel pits, traffic lights, graffiti'd celebration of athletic victory on bridge overpass, crust of blood on the Wal-Mart loading dock, the sun-faded wreaths of plastic flowers marking death on the highway are ephemeral. Other cultures have camped here a while and disappeared. Only earth and sky matter. Only the endlessly repeated flood of morning light. You begin to see that God does not owe us much beyond that. ↗

— Annie Proulx

#landscape #weather #western #wind #death

Weather is a purely personal matter. There is no such thing as a climate that is cold or hot, good or bad, healthy or unhealthy. People take it upon themselves to create a fantasy in their imagination and call it weather. There's only one climate in the world, but the message that nature sends is interpreted according to strictly personal, non-transferable rules. ↗

— Álvaro Mutis

#philosophy #weather #imagination

It was raining in the small, mountainous country of Llamedos. It was always raining in Llamedos. Rain was the country's main export. It had rain mines. ↗

— Terry Pratchett

#weather #music

I knew by the signs it would be a hard winter. The hollies bore a heavy crop of berries and birds stripped them bare. Crows quarreled in reaped fields and owls cried in the mountains, mournful as widows. Fur and moss grew thicker than usual. Cold rains came, driven sideways through the trees by north winds, and snows followed. ↗

— Sarah Micklem

#folklore #nature #predictions #weather #winter

I don't know if there is actually more rain here in England, or if it was just that the rain seemed to be so deliberately annoying. Every drop hit the window with a peevish "Am I bothering you? Does this make you cold and wet? Oh, sorry. ↗

— Maureen Johnson

#london-weather #perfect-descriptions-of-places #rain #weather #england

I have been in meetings where a head of state will say, 'I like your tie,' to a man... or, 'I like your country because the weather's good,' or whatever. So for me, the pins in some ways were openers. ↗

— Madeleine Albright

#been #country #good #head #i

You think that the heads of state only have serious conversations, but they actually often begin really with the weather or, 'I really like your tie.' ↗

— Madeleine Albright

#begin #conversations #heads #i #like

Portland, Oregon won't build a mile of road without a mile of bike path. You can commute there, even with that weather, all the time. ↗

— Lance Armstrong

#build #commute #even #mile #oregon

Painting, n.: The art of protecting flat surfaces from the weather, and exposing them to the critic. ↗

— Ambrose Bierce

#critic #exposing #flat #painting #protecting