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 Est. 1998




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Quotations about the Sky
and Blue Skies



SEE ALSO:  CLOUDS NIGHT SKY SCORPIUS CONSTELLATION LIGHT POLLUTION SUN SUNRISE & SUNSET RAIN RAINBOWS STORMS THUNDERSTORMS AZ MONSOONS SNOW WIND WEATHER SEASONS NATURE BIRDS FLYING SKYDIVING


No one can tilt his head and tell
the height where sky begins or ends...
~Cave Outlaw (1900–1996), "White Clouds," Wind in the Bell Tower, 1980


The sky is ragged and patched
To hide the holes clawed out by clamorous birds...
~Joseph Auslander, "Abyss," Sunrise Trumpets, 1924


The sky
is that beautiful old parchment
in which the sun
and the moon
keep their diary...
~Alfred Kreymborg


To see the Summer Sky
Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie –
True Poems flee –
~Emily Dickinson, c.1879


Ennis, weather-eyed, looked west for the heated cumulus that might come up on such a day, but the boneless blue was so deep, said Jack, that he might drown looking up. ~Annie Proulx, "Brokeback Mountain," 1997


...the sky. It is the part of creation in which nature has done more for the sake of pleasing man.... there is not a moment of any day of our lives, when nature is not producing scene after scene, picture after picture, glory after glory, and working still upon such exquisite and constant principles of the most perfect beauty, that it is quite certain it is all done for us, and intended for our perpetual pleasure. ~John Ruskin, "Of the Open Sky"


[H]ardly a day passes but we may see in the sky above us that God is producing scenes of perfect beauty, or of glorious majesty, which so far as we know are only produced for the sake of giving us pleasure. ~Alfred Rowland, "The Clouds: God's Angels of the Sea," in The Sunday Magazine (London), 1884


If the skies fall, one may hope to catch larks. ~François Rabelais


[Haze:]
Sun-dust. —Thoreau
[Twilight:]
Reach of primrose sky
With heaven's pale candles stored. —Jean Ingelow
[Dawn:]
Light a little trembling in the gray,
Above the folded hills. —Mrs. Browning
[The Morning Moon:]
The stars burned out in the pale blue air,
And the thin, white moon lay withering there. —Shelley
[Sunset:]
The level sun, like ruddy ore,
Lay sinking in the barren skies. —Jean Ingelow
[Evening:]
White moonlight comes
And takes the inert landscape by surprise. —Unknown
~Hannah R. Hudson, "Word-Painting," Poems, 1874  #cento


The sky is colored infinity. ~Gladys Taber, "Fall," Stillmeadow Sampler, 1959


The west receives the wandering sun
as the east sends forth the watchful moon.
~Cave Outlaw (1900–1996), "Magic Hour," Wind in the Bell Tower, 1980


So rests the sky against the earth. ~Dag Hammarskjöld, 1951, translated from the Swedish by Leif Sjöberg and W. H. Auden, Markings, 1964


Here there are very beautiful fields with olive trees, which are grey and silvery green, like pollard willows. And I never get tired of the blue sky.. ~Vincent van Gogh, letter, 1889


There on the hills of summer let me lie
On the cool grass in friendship with the sky.
Let me lie there in love with earth and sun,
And wonder up at the light-foot winds that run,
Stirring the delicate edges of the trees,
And shaking down a music of the seas.
~Edwin Markham, "At Friends with Life," The Shoes of Happiness and Other Poems, 1913


Look up and behold Heaven's gallery of art, with its countless, ever-changing, golden pictures of beauty, illuminating the gorgeous curtain of ethereal blue. ~James Lendall Basford (1845–1915), Seven Seventy Seven Sensations, 1897


Oh! "darkly, deeply, beautifully blue,"
As some one somewhere sings about the sky.
~Lord Byron, "Don Juan," 1824  [quoting Southey about the ocean, from Madoc, 1805 –tg]


The roads shall not be vacant of my feet
This windy morning underneath this sky
That flows like some old river over me...
~Marshall Schacht, "Excursions," 1920s


A cloudless plain blue sky is like a flowerless garden. ~Terri Guillemets, "Porch swing thoughts," 2006


And they were canopied by the blue sky,
So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful,
That God alone was to be seen in Heaven.
~Lord Byron, "The Dream," 1816


Father Sky has a tail the color of Mother Earth's body, while Mother Earth's tail is the color of Father Sky's body. ~"Navaho Earth Mother and Sky Father," tapestry of sand painting from the Wheelwright Museum of the American Indian, described in Arthur D. & Libby Lee Colman, The Father: Mythology and Changing Roles, 1981


I never saw a man who looked
With such a wistful eye
Upon that little tent of blue
Which prisoners call the sky...
~C. 3. 3. (Oscar Wilde), "The Ballad of Reading Gaol," 1897


[I]t's better to look at the sky than live there. Such an empty place; so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear. ~Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany's, 1958


Sometimes the air is blue, so blue
And once I saw it vivid red,
Sometimes it is as grey as age
Or white as pale words lightly said.
I love it best when it is gold
With sunbeams laughing in the light...
I like it when it's lavender
And often when it is bright green,
And I can always dream in it
When it has glow and joy and sheen.
When air is full of fairy tints
It always seems so strange to me
That there are those who will maintain
Air is but thin transparency!
~George Elliston, "Color of Air," 1926


Picasso is an artist, dear. Artists can color the sky red because they know it's blue. Those of us who aren't artists must color things the way they really are or people might think we're stupid. ~Jules Feiffer, Crawling Arnold, 1961


The vast space above us—so near, and yet in many respects so far beyond our reach, so familiar, and yet so strange.... the moving shapes and shifting hues of that vault which is like the floor of heaven trodden by angels... which, in indifference to its glory and beauty, we so frequently forget to look at, except with a careless reference to the state of the weather? ~Sarah Tytler, Footprints: Nature Seen on its Human Side, 1881  [Tytler was the pen name for Henrietta Keddie (1827–1914). —tg]


i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes...
~E. E. Cummings (1894–1962)


Mamma, is the sky a curtain,
      hiding heaven from our sight;
      are the moon and sun but windows
      made to give the angels light?
Are the stars bright flashing diamonds
      shining from God's hand afar,
      and the clouds but veils of vapor
      dropped from heaven floating there?
If the sun's a window, mamma,
      don't the angels through it peep,
      e're it kisses earth at ev'en,
      watching o'er us while we sleep?
Is the rainbow just a ribbon,
      girding heaven and earth about,
      or a railing made of roses
      so the angels won't fall out?
Is the sighing in the treetops
      songs of praise some angel sings,
      and the snowy flakes of winter
      feathers falling from their wings?
Are the dewdrops brightly shining
      in the early morning hours,
      kiss-spots left by elves and fairies,
      where they slept among the flowers?
Is the lightning rockets, flying
      when the Prince of Glory comes,
      and the thunder but the rattle
      of the baby angels' drums???
~The Queries Magazine, 1890  [see original shape poem here —tg]


The sky was meditating rain. The earth was restless with waiting. ~Rupert Hughes, The Whirlwind, 1902


I rest in rainbows
and I nest in clouds
I'd live in raindrops
if only I knew how
~Author unknown


The bugle moon by daylight floats
So glassy white about the sky,
So like a berg of hyaline,
And pencilled blue so daintily,
I never saw her so divine.
~Gerard Manley Hopkins, “Winter with the Gulf Stream"


What think ye, shall a man be counted rich,
Though untold wealth be his, if he, of sight bereft,
Can only grope his way, nor his the faintest rift
Of light? Nay, sure a beggar in the ditch
Who nightly turns his eyes towards the sky
Hath greater wealth. The stars are his, the sunrise by and by.
~Harry Potter, "What Think Ye?," In Thy Heart's Garden, 1917


How bravely Autumn paints upon the sky
The gorgeous fame of Summer which is fled!
~Thomas Hood, "Sonnet. Written in a Volume of Shakespeare," The Plea of the Midsummer Fairies and Other Poems, 1827





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