The wind whirls and whistles and strip pink blooms from the mimosas, scatters twigs, broken limbs, pine needles and pine cones across our yard, and robs the pecan trees of a thousand leaves. The storm eventually dies, but the bruised trees continue to weep into the night, still shimmering with dewy leaves when the sun comes up the next morning. Brenda Sutton Rose
Some Similar Quotes
  1. Love like rain, can nourish from above, drenching couples with a soaking joy. But sometimes under the angry heat of life, love dries on the surface and must nourish from below, tending to its roots keeping itself alive. - Paulo Coelho
  2. I love you because no two snowflakes are alike, and it is possible, if you stand tippy-toe, to walk between the raindrops. - Nikki Giovanni
  3. If I were rain, That joins sky and earth that otherwise never touch, Could I join two hearts as well? - Tite Kubo
  4. Waiting for you is like waiting for rain in this drought. Useless and disappointing." ~ Sam (Hilary Duff), A Cinderella Story - Hilary Duff
  5. Valentine WeatherKiss me with rain on your eyelashes, come on, let us sway together, under the trees, and to hell with thunder. - Edwin Morgan
More Quotes By Brenda Sutton Rose
  1. The truth had lacerated him to the bone, had punctured his heart, and had ripped through his soul. The truth had slain him and tended to his wounds. The truth had hated him and loved him. The truth had opened his eyes to his own...
  2. My mother’s dress bears the stains of her life:blueberries, blood, bleach, and breast milk; She cradles in her arms a lifetime of love and sorrow; Its brilliance nearly blinds me.
  3. The guitar poured out its soul, its history, its dreams, its pain, its victories, its secrets. The guitar’s strings purred with blues and ended with a haunting solitary song with no lyrics.
  4. The guitar breathed. It inhaled and exhaled, and music filled the shop as the instrument picked the heartbreak of generations.
  5. A real musician ain’t gonna choose his own guitar like an evil master choosing his slave. The guitar will choose his master and when he does, you’ll know it.
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