The Quote Garden ™
“I dig old books.” ™
Weather & Windows
Welcome to my page of quotations about weather at windows — rain or snow falling against windowpanes, watching storms through a window, etc. —ღ Terri
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts to‑night, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply...
~Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892–1950)
The heavy rain beat down the tender branches of vine and jessamine, and trampled on them in its fury; and when the lightning gleamed, it showed the tearful leaves shivering and cowering together at the window, and tapping at it urgently, as if beseeching to be sheltered from the dismal night. ~Charles Dickens, The Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit, 1842–1844
“Bad weather always looks worse through a window,” my mother used to tell us... ~Marion Mill Preminger, All I Want Is Everything, 1957
On cable TV, they have a weather channel — 24 hours of weather. We had something like that where I grew up. We called it a window. ~Dan Spencer
Do you hear the snow against the windowpanes, Kitty? How nice and soft it sounds! Just as if some one was kissing the window all over outside. ~Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass, And What Alice Found There, 1871
Rumbling of passing thunderstorms at nightfall. The first cool gusts blow through windows left open until the last possible moment... ~David J. Beard (1947–2016), tweet, 2011
And at last it comes. You hear a patter... you see a leaf here and there bob and blink about you; you feel a spot on your face, on your hand. And then the gracious rain comes, gathering its forces — steady, close, abundant. Lean out of window, and watch, and listen. How delicious! ~John Richard Vernon, "The Beauty of Rain," 1863
The best kind of rain, of course, is a cozy rain. This is the kind the anonymous medieval poet makes me remember, the rain that falls on a day when you'd just as soon stay in bed a little longer, write letters or read a good book by the fire, take early tea with hot scones and jam and look out the streaked window with complacency. ~Susan Allen Toth, England For All Seasons, 1997
Against the windows the storm comes dashing,
Through tattered foliage the hail tears crashing,
The blue lightning flashes,
The rapid hail clashes...
The thunder is rumbling
And crashing and crumbling...
~James Russell Lowell, "Summer Storm," 1839
Rain is beautiful when it comes hurried and passionate, fleeing from the storm wind, hurled, like a volley of small musketry, against your streaming panes... ~John Richard Vernon, "The Beauty of Rain," 1863
Suddenly all the sky is hid
As with the shutting of a lid,
One by one great drops are falling
Doubtful and slow,
Down the pane they are crookedly crawling,
And the wind breathes low;
Slowly the circles widen on the river,
Widen and mingle, one and all;
Here and there the slenderer flowers shiver,
Struck by an icy rain-drop's fall.
~James Russell Lowell, "Summer Storm," 1839
He brewed his tea in a blue china pot, poured it into a chipped white cup with forget-me-nots on the handle, and dropped in a dollop of honey and of cream. He sat by the window, cup in hand, watching the first snow fall. "I am," he sighed deeply, "contented as a clam. I am a most happy man." ~Ethel Pochocki (1925–2010), Wildflower Tea, 1993
late June, monsoon — kaboom!
patter, splatter, fat drops gather
splats, taps, windowpane raps
wind whips, swish, whish —
summer's rumbling thunder
flash, crash, lightning dash
plash, splash, sky unlashed
~Terri Guillemets, "Summer wonder," 2007
You know you're an Arizona native when you run to the window just to watch a dust storm. ~Marshall Trimble, quoted in You Know You're an Arizona Native, When…, compiled by Don Dedera, 1993
It was one of those somber evenings when the sighing of the wind resembles the moans of a dying man; a storm was brewing, and between the splashes of rain on the windows there was the silence of death. ~Alfred de Musset, The Confession of a Child of the Century/La Confession d’un enfant du siècle, 1836, translated from French by Kendall Warren
It was one of those hot, silent nights, when people sit at windows, listening for the thunder which they know will shortly break; when they recall dismal tales of hurricanes and earthquakes; and of lonely travellers on open plains, and lonely ships at sea struck by lightning. ~Charles Dickens, The Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit, 1842–1844
They all moved to one of the windows, and looked out into the heavy twilight. The curtains were long and white, and some of the thunder-gusts that whirled into the corner, caught them up to the ceiling, and waved them like spectral wings. "The rain-drops are still falling, large, heavy, and few," said Doctor Manette. "It comes slowly."
"It comes surely," said Carton. They spoke low, as people watching and waiting mostly do; as people in a dark room, watching and waiting for Lightning, always do. There was a great hurry in the streets, of people speeding away to get shelter before the storm broke. ~Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities, 1859
It's a rare, good morning when the most difficult thing I have to do is sip my coffee, stare out the window, and decide which I like better — a steady, lulling winter rain, or a big-drop, splattery-plopping summer rain. ~Terri Guillemets
Tonight, as I opened my window
And looked at the far away sky,
I breathed in the air, cold and frosty,
And gazed at the stars up so high.
And, then, I was suddenly conscious
That snowflakes were swirling around—
The very first snow of the season!—
Fast falling, without any sound.
~Gertrude Tooley Buckingham, "The First Snow of the Season" (1940s)
Original post date 2007 Apr 1
Revisions 2014 Jan 31, 2019 Nov 19
Last saved 2020 Aug 30 Sun 19:30 PDT