Quotes About Rain Novels & Stories

As I stare out of the kitchen window at the bright rainbow peeking out of the clouds, I am reminded of a quote I once read somewhere: “After the rain comes the sunshine.” I turn away and walk towards Dawn. “Please bring Noah’s lunch bag and a cup of coffee to the dining.” “Yes, Ma’am,” she curtseys.

What are your thoughts on the rain? I think it’s awesome, how something can be so powerful and yet so comforting at the same time. I have so much love for the rain. Power and comfort are two things that you would not often see in the same sentence. Power corrupts, that shit was from comforting. I wonder to whom this was meant for. Is it a letter for someone? It sounds too informal to be a school essay. It can make the world stand still in a heartbeat. But despite that, it does not pressure you to do anything. You’d hear it softly hitting the ground as if it was whispering to you. ‘Slow down child. Today, you can stay at home and rest.’

he suddenly asked. She was stunned, not understanding why he would suddenly ask such a question. Ezra continued, "Some people say that rainwater is dirty, but those who say that must not understand that sometimes, humans can be even dirtier. Being drenched in the rain makes me feel as if I'm being cleansed." Vivienne stared at Ezra, rainwater dripping from his hair and cheeks, and he smiled, his expression filled with mockery.

"It's fun! My grandmother used to tell me this before she died; 'You don't have to wait for the storm to pass when you can actually dance in the rain!'" Sighing, he shook his head. "When I say you think and act childish, you always prove me right. She didn't tell you that for you to practically dance in the rain! It has a literary meaning!" "I know! But still it's fun!" "It doesn't look like this rain is going to stop anytime soon." Josie told him, bringing him back to the present. For a moment, he was smiling while thinking about Annette and when Josie talked, he cleared his throat. He watched as she stepped forward and stretched her hand into the rain.

The rain was pouring, like it was punishing everyone in this place. “Rain...” she whispered. “Do you think rain makes everyone sad?”

Raising my arms, the clouds turn gray and everyone could see the lightning as it came closer and closer before hitting me and rain falling. "Pluvia. Pluvia. Pluet super nos omnes. Pluvia. Pluvia. Pluet super nos, et purifica nos. Imbribus, iterum nos sanos fac." (Rainfall. Rainfall. Rain on us all. Rainfall. Rainfall. Rain on us and purify us. Rainfall, make us whole again.) - I say out loud.

"Tell me about the rain. What was it like?" Lyra's eyes lit up. "It was music! It tap-tap-tapped on the roof of our cottage. It made the puddles in the lane dance, and after, everything smelled clean and new, and the whole world was washed shiny." She hugged her knees. "Mama said the rain was the sky's way of helping things grow. She said we should always be thankful for the rain."

"In my childhood, rain meant tea and books. I used to sit on the balcony with my father and read poetry. That habit is still with me. Seeing you, Abrar, I feel as if that little Raisa has returned." Abrar laughed. "Mother, why do you think of poetry when you see the rain?" "Because in the rain, the world stops. All accounts and calculations wash away. Only joy and peace remain." The four of them sat in silence, watching the rain. No one spoke. Only the sound of sips from tea cups and the patter of raindrops. ---

Talk about a trail reminiscent of a scratch I looked around, orange sparkle adorned the evening sky. It was clear that a shadow was reflected on the puddle. Until when will I be trapped in the maze of the past? Really, I want to forget, the man who in the past year created a beautiful memory point. Usually, this rainy exhausted. Brother Daffa series called me said, "Believe me dear 99,9 % rain is not water, but the taste I miss you."

To be honest, she herself has forgotten what it was, only the feeling, maybe she can describe. "The rain, it's like being under the rain," she told them. "You have been under the rain?" Both the elf and the Indian asked in unison and they looked at each other, frowning. "Yes!" she answers, brow drawn together. "Haven't the both of you?" "As I said, I'm only in my hut." "And we don't celebrate the rain. It's bad omen." But for Amorivia, the rain was always great. And then a memory she recalls. She was staring right outside a window, the rain was pouring hard and it felt really cold. Everyone was noisy but the rain was blocking their noise.