rain

There was an ocean above us, held in by a thin sac that might rupture and let down a flood at any second.

Being soaked alone is cold. Being soaked with your best friend is an adventure.

... only darkened trails of rain could paint your face upon a pane...

Under the glass porte-cochère of a theatre Amory stood, watching the first great drops of rain splatter down and flatten to dark stains on the sidewalk. The air became grey and opalescent; a solitary light suddenly outlined a window over the way; then another light; then a hundred more danced and glimmered into vision. Under his feet a thick, iron-studded skylight turned yellow; in the street the lamps of the taxicabs sent out glistening sheens along the already black pavement. The unwelcome November rain had perversely stolen the day__ last hour and pawned it with that ancient fence, the night.

When the rain finally abates, I decide to wait out the night instead of trying to climb in the dark.

There is a flaw to your plan._ A sly grin crept onto his face once again. My eyebrow arched at him questioningly. __ live across the street,_ he told me; and, without another word, he turned around toward his house and I realized what he meant. I told my problems to a stranger that I would probably see again.

He wasn__ kissing me like I was going to break

...with you, I find peace from pain - You are gentle and healing like the landscape__ike rain...

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 air itself was gray, so ultimate and ubiquitous that colour was everywhere around me.Gray...

His hands fell to my hips, and his fingers dug through my rain-drenched clothes.

The water of such a nation (living godly) will not fail. Talking of harmony between the people of the land and nature. Natural catastrophes and disasters shall be far from such a people. There shall be rain in its time, sun in its time. Nature will respond adequately to the needs and desires of such a people.

During a warm winter rain ... the basins of her collarbones collected water.

The umbrella won't stop the rain, but it will help you to get out during rainfall. As well as confidence is not going to guarantee your success, but it will give you the opportunity to achieve it...

In interviews with riders that I've read and in conversations that I've had with them, the same thing always comes up: the best part was the suffering. In Amsterdam I once trained with a Canadian rider who was living in Holland. A notorious creampuff: in the sterile art of track racing he was Canadian champion in at least six disciplines, but when it came to toughing it out on the road he didn't have the character.The sky turned black, the water in the ditch rippled, a heavy storm broke loose. The Canadian sat up straight, raised his arms to heaven and shouted: 'Rain! Soak me! Ooh, rain, soak me, make me wet!'How can that be: suffering is suffering, isn't it?In 1910, Milan__an Remo was won by a rider who spent half an hour in a mountain hut, hiding from a snowstorm. Man, did he suffer!In 1919, Brussels__miens was won by a rider who rode the last forty kilometers with a flat front tire. Talk about suffering! He arrived at 11.30 at night, with a ninety-minute lead on the only other two riders who finished the race. The day had been like night, trees had whipped back and forth, farmers were blown back into their barns, there were hailstones, bomb craters from the war, crossroads where the gendarmes had run away, and riders had to climb onto one another's shoulders to wipe clean the muddied road signs.Oh, to have been a rider then. Because after the finish all the suffering turns into memories of pleasure, and the greater the suffering, the greater the pleasure. That is Nature's payback to riders for the homage they pay her by suffering. Velvet pillows, safari parks, sunglasses: people have become woolly mice. They still have bodies that can walk for five days and four nights through a desert of snow, without food, but they accept praise for having taken a one-hour bicycle ride. 'Good for you.' Instead of expressing their gratitude for the rain by getting wet, people walk around with umbrellas. Nature is an old lay with few suitors these days, and those who wish to make use of her charms she rewards passionately. That's why there are riders.Suffering you need; literature is baloney.

There were days when I still put on make up in case you__ come back,but I wear the same clothes and shower in the rainand eat when I can and sleep when I can,which is rare and not often,so if you__ see me nowon these streetswhere I once imagined walking with youyou__ have a hard time recognising me.I takes a lot to run away.

It was true that the city could still throw shadows filled with mystifying figures from its past, whose grip on the present could be felt on certain strange days, when the streets were dark with rain and harmful ideas.

...I lost my illusions in a black rain of bitterness - now what do you see in my eyes? How can you still love me? How can I be tender? ...

In between saying something and achieving it, there is some pothole to fill; that__ __oing it_. Goals are pursued with the word __O_ and visions with the word __ENTURE_. You can__ be living always in the promise of the cloud; it must rain now!