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Quotations about the Sky
and Blue Skies
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
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
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
Day holds the sky with big blue arms
Until the sun sends her off into evening
With a grateful blaze of vibrant colors
~Terri Guillemets
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).
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
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
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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Last saved 2023 Mar 12 Sun 10:10 PDT
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