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Tag Name "Windowpane" (13)

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Prayer is like lying awake at night, afraid, with your head under the cover, hearing only the beating of your own heart. It is like a bird that has blundered down the flue and is caught indoors and flutters at the windowpanes. It is like standing a long time on a cold day, knocking at a shut door.
Wendell Berry
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With watercolour, you can pick up the atmosphere, the temperature, the sound of snow shifting through the trees or over the ice of a small pond or against a windowpane. Watercolour perfectly expresses the free side of my nature.
Andrew Wyeth
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The snow, which had fallen quietly at first, was now pelting against the windowpanes, driven by a wicked wind the storm was rapidly assuming proportions of a blizzard.
Frances Parkinson Keyes
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It is also true that one can write nothing readable unless one constantly struggles to efface one's own personality. Good prose is like a windowpane.
George Orwell
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Tricky the paths a long love might follow, like the spiral down twists of a raindrop on a windowpane.
Kevin Barry
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Fate, Chance, God’s Will — we all try to account for our lives somehow. What are the chances that two raindrops, flung from the heavens, will merge on a windowpane? Gotta be Fate.
Robert Breault
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So I sit there kicked my heels, thinking about New Orleans, and watching a morbid blue-bottle fly attempt to commit suicide by butting his head against the windowpane.
Thomas Bailey Aldrich
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May in Ayemenem is a hot, brooding month. The days are long and humid. The river shrinks and black crows gorge on bright mangoes in still, dustgreen trees. Red bananas ripen. Jackfruits burst. Dissolute bluebottles hum vacuously in the fruity air. Then they stun themselves against clear windowpanes and die, fatly baffled in the sun.
Arundhati Roy
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Good writing is like a windowpane.
George Orwell
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Rosiness is not a worse windowpane than gloomy gray when viewing the world.
Grace Paley
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The uncertainty of our future is nothing more than a fog of breath on a windowpane.
Libba Bray
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and the rain went rollin down the windowpanes, and the shadows wiggled n' squiggled on her check and forehead like black veins.
Stephen King
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I was the shadow of the waxwing slain/By the false azure in the windowpane.
Vladimir Nabokov