Quotes with the word "wind. Quotes with the word "wind" Beautiful phrases about the wind

I always want to look into people's eyes, And drink wine, and kiss women, And fill the evening with the fury of desires, When the heat makes it difficult to dream during the day, And sing songs! And listen to the world wind!

A rush of cold wind hit me in the face, and a clear sky shone in front of me, like a huge block of lapis lazuli with golden dust of countless stars.

I am never alone in my hut, especially in the morning when there are no visitors. I will try to convey my feelings with some comparisons. I am no more lonely than a loon laughing loudly on a pond, or Walden Pond itself. Who shares the loneliness of this reservoir? Meanwhile, its azure waters reflect not the demons of longing, but heavenly angels. The sun is also lonely, except for those cases when we see two of them in the fog, but one of them is false. And God is also alone, but the devil, he is by no means alone, he constantly rotates in society, and his name is legion. I am no more lonely than a lonely growing mullein, or a meadow dandelion, or a pea leaf, or a sorrel, or a horsefly, or a bumblebee. I am no more lonely than a mill stream, or a weather vane, or the North Star, or the southern wind, or April rain, or January drops, or the first spider in a new house.

In the meantime, a few curious people approached; others, lured by the strong alcohol smell, began to dismantle the roofing boards; under them are livestock and dead people and all sorts of things. Further it was impossible to go through the ruins; I prepared the skiff and set off for the Neva; we sailed to the Galley harbor; but strong wind nailed me to the Salny Buyans, where, on an elevated granite shore, stood a two-masted Chukhon ship, built so high with extraordinary strength; Huge ships damaged all around, abandoned there from afar. I climbed up; here is a huge brick building, its entire front side was broken in several places, as if by a dozen wall-beating guns; barrels of lard scattered everywhere; at my feet are shards, an onion, a cabbage, and a thick bound pile of papers with the inscription: “No 16, Feb. 20. Cases of the state.

I think that when I die, I will rot, and nothing of my "I" will remain. I am no longer young and I love life. But I would consider it beneath my dignity to tremble with fear at the thought of death. Happiness does not cease to be happiness because it is transient, and thoughts and love do not lose value because of their transience. Many people carried themselves with dignity on the scaffold; such pride should teach us to see man's true place in the world. Even wind, bursting into the windows opened by science, makes us, accustomed to the cozy warmth of traditional "ennobling" myths, at first tremble, in the end, fresh air brings vigor and strength, and the vast spaces opening before us have their own unique splendor.

Three passions, simple but irresistibly strong, I carried through my whole life: the thirst for love, the search for knowledge and unbearable compassion for human pain. These passions are like mighty winds thrown me in different directions, forced to wander in the oceanic abyss of physical suffering, put me on the verge of despair.

Forgive me for reminiscing about the past, but I can't forget about it either. After all, alone, with a navy built originally on fresh river water, with sailors trained by him, without funds, but with a firm faith in Russia and its future, Great Peter went forward. There was no passing wind, he, with his sailors in his arms, on calloused hands, transferred his galleys overland from the Gulf of Finland to Bothnian, smashed the enemy fleet, captured squadrons and awarded the laborer creator of new Russia Pyotr Mikhailov with the modest rank of admiral. Gentlemen, is it possible that only the cadets of the naval corps, who erected a modest cross made of Serdobol granite on the site of the Gangut battle, really remember this impetuous power, this brilliant power of our ancestors? Is it possible that only they remember this creative power of our ancestors, not only the power of victory, but also the power of consciousness of state tasks, and Russia has forgotten? After all, the blood of these strong people has flowed into your veins, after all, you are flesh of their flesh, after all, not many of you deny the fatherland, but the vast majority are aware that people have united into families, families into tribes, tribes into nations in order to fulfill its world task, in order to move humanity forward. Will they really say here that we must wait until the center becomes stronger, is it possible that in the center of our state thought, our state feeling, the understanding of our state tasks has weakened?

Then I became angry and cursed the river and water lilies with a curse of silence, and wind, and the forest, and the sky, and thunder, and the sighs of water lilies. And they were embraced by my curse and became mute. And the moon stopped its difficult path across the sky, and the thunder died down, and the lightning did not shine anymore, and the clouds hung motionless, and the waters entered their bed and remained there, and the trees stopped swaying, and the water lilies did not sigh anymore and did not rise from them anymore. crowds not the slightest whisper, not a sound throughout the vast desert without borders. And I looked at the inscription on the rock, and it changed; and now the letters made up the word: "Silence."

By not forgiving the mistake, you make the mistake yourself. Forgiving meanness, you help to commit another. And stupidity does not require forgiveness at all. She is like wind, does not depend on anything. It must be accepted as it is, and, defending itself from its harm, look for its benefit.

I am fond of sailing and when I explain to students how the country's economy functions, I compare it to a yacht at sea. For things to go well, you need wind, is interest. The steering wheel is state regulation. The American economy has a weak steering wheel. You can't do what Reagan said: raise the sails, let them fill wind, and go to the cockpit to drink cocktails. So it will take us out onto the rocks, smash the yacht to smithereens. The Soviet Union is now the opposite: wind does not fill the sails, and then the rudder does not help either. I think the Japanese do it better. They, of course, have a private initiative, but the state also plays a big role, influencing the development of the economy in a better direction. Of all the capitalist countries from which there is something to learn at the present time, I would choose not the United States, but Japan.

You say that you love the rain, but you walk under an umbrella. You say you love the sun, but you look for shade when it shines. You say you love wind but when it blows you close the window. That's why I get scared when you say you love me.

A happy woman pleases the eye
In it the music of the sun plays the violin,
Charming like a diamond
And the lips will stretch themselves in a smile,

A happy woman will delight everyone,
In her radiance flows from God,
She is the purity of the primordial spring,
There is a lot of dazzling beauty in her,

A happy woman is your amulet,
Pier from the wind in any weather,
Blessing power source,
Everything is in harmony - such a nature,

The vocation of a woman is to decorate the world,
Sow radiant, bright something
And lead into the world of Love - inspire,
Make yourself and others happy.

There is always someone who needs you
Who so naively believes in you
Who boldly trusts the soul,
Who is ready to wait, loving, at the door ...

Who every moment - breath, look
Always ready to strive for you
There is always someone who is just there
Who is not afraid to be unwanted...

Who knows that love is not asked,
Who knows that love is not mercy,
To toss her with a coin
So that she rolls at her feet ...

But at any hour, when adversity
They squeeze the heart in their vise,
There is always someone who in bad weather
The warmth will give you - warm up ...

There is always someone who needs you
Stubborn, proud, full of pain
Who silently takes your soul
Into your hot palms...

And will not remind you in the hour of sadness,
When the wind howls in anguish -
"For those we tame,
Always, always, always in the answer ... "

Separation weakens a slight infatuation, but strengthens a great passion, just as the wind extinguishes a candle, but kindles a fire. Temporary separation is useful, because constant communication gives rise to the appearance of monotony. Everything comes to him who knows how to wait. Unfortunately, sometimes only separation teaches the love of a loved one.

Why do people think they have the right to destroy other people's lives? Leaving, offending, not calling, throwing words into the wind Are you, Gods, to decide who suffers and who lives happily? If you already said “I love”, then be kind to love until the last breath. If you said “I promise”, then break into a cake, but keep your promise. If you said "I won't let you go", then do everything to stay. Otherwise, what is the point of living if your every word is equal to zero and has no meaning?

Chapter 12

It was the first day of spring.

Jane and Michael figured it out right away. Mr. Banks sang in the bathroom, and he only sang in the bathroom once a year, on the first day of spring.

They will remember this morning forever. Firstly, they were finally allowed to have breakfast downstairs, and secondly, Mr. Banks lost his black briefcase. As you can see, the day began with two absolutely exceptional events.

Where is my PORTFOLIO? shouted Mr. Banks, running round and round the hallway like a dog chasing its tail.

And with him ran all the household: Ellen, Mrs. Banks and children. Even Robertson He overcame laziness and did two laps. The portfolio was finally found. Mr. Banks found it in his office and ran into the hallway, holding it at arm's length.

So, - he began, as if he wanted to deliver a sermon, - my briefcase always hangs in its place. Here,” he pointed to the umbrella stand. Who took him to the office? he barked.

You took it yourself, dear, remember, you took out the tax papers in the evening, - said Mrs. Banks undiplomatically and immediately regretted what she had said - Mr. Banks looked so unhappy. I'd rather take the blame.

Hmm, hmm, - Mr. Banks finally muttered, blew his nose loudly, took his coat off the hanger and went to the door.

Look, he cheered. The tulips are already in color! He went into the garden and sniffed. - Hmm, and the wind seems to be from the west, - he looked down the street at the house of Admiral Boom.

The weather vane in the form of a spyglass really showed the West wind. - That's what I thought. This means that the weather will be warm and clear. You can go without a coat.

With these words, he picked up his briefcase, put on his top hat, threw his overcoat on the bench, and set off towards the City.

Did you hear what he said? Michael tugged at Jane's sleeve.

Jane nodded.

The wind is blowing from the west,” she said slowly.

They both said nothing more, but the same terrible thought flashed through their minds.

But they immediately forgot about it: everything went on as usual, only the sun flooded the house with such a bright light that the floors seemed to be freshly painted, and the walls were covered with new wallpaper. In a word, there was no better house on Cherry Street that day.

The trouble declared itself after dinner.

Jane was in the garden, just sowing radishes, when suddenly there was some noise from the nursery, quick footsteps were heard on the stairs. And Michael appeared in the garden, red and out of breath.

Look Jane! he extended his hand. A Mary Poppins compass lay on it, its disc spinning like crazy because Michael's palm was trembling violently.

Compass? Jane looked at him questioningly.

She gave it to me,” Michael suddenly burst into tears. - Said he was mine. What will happen now? Probably something really terrible. She never gave me anything.

Maybe she wanted to be kind, Jane suggested, she wanted to console Michael. But she also became uncomfortable. Mary Poppins hated sentiment.

Mary Poppins never got angry all day long. True, she did not utter two words all day. It seemed that she was in deep thought, answering questions in some detached, not her own voice. And Michael couldn't resist.

Mary Poppins, please get angry! Well, at least once! You are completely different today. And I'm very, very scared. - His heart sank from an anxious foreboding: something should happen today in the house number 17 on Cherry Street.

Don't call trouble - call it, - Mary Poppins muttered in her usual angry voice.

And Michael immediately felt better.

Maybe it's just how I feel, he told Jane. - Maybe it's okay. And I made it all up, didn't I, Jane?

Quite possibly, Jane said slowly. But she also had cats scratching at her heart.

In the evening the wind increased and drafts came through the house. He whistled in the chimneys, burst through the cracks in the windows. He bent the children's carpet in the corners.

Mary Poppins did everything as always - she cleared the table, arranged the plates in neat piles. She tidied up the nursery and put the kettle on a stand in the fireplace.

Here you go! she said, looking around the room with satisfaction. She was silent for a minute, then put one hand on Michael's head, the other on Jane's shoulder.

I'm going to take my shoes downstairs," she began, "for Robertson Ay to clean them. Be good while I'm gone.

With these words, she went out and quietly closed the door behind her. Jane and Michael seemed to be pushed by someone - we must immediately run after Mary Poppins. But they stuck to the chairs. They sat without moving, putting their elbows on the table, encouraging each other with their looks.

How stupid we are, - finally said Jane. - Nothing bad happened. But she knew she was saying it to comfort Michael, and maybe herself.

The clock ticked loudly on the mantelpiece. Crimson embers burned down in the fireplace, crackling. And they all sat and waited.

She's been gone for a very long time, - Michael said anxiously.

As if in response, the wind howled harder, whistled. And the clock echoed him with a gloomy measured ticking.

Suddenly the silence was broken by the sound of a door slamming downstairs.

Michael! Jane jumped up.

Jane! Michael shouted, turning pale.

The children listened and rushed to the window. Mary Poppins was standing on the porch below, dressed in a coat and hat, with a bag in one hand and an umbrella in the other. The wind whirled around her, tugging at her skirt, pushing her bonnet to a dangerous position. But Mary Poppins, apparently, was pleased, she smiled at the wind - it seems that they understood each other.

For a moment she hesitated on the porch, looked back at the door. Then, with a quick movement, she opened her umbrella, although it was not raining, and threw it over her head.

With a wild howl, the wind picked up the umbrella, as if it wanted to snatch it from the hands of Mary Poppins. But she held him tight; however, the wind did not mind, but pulled the umbrella even harder, and Mary Poppins lifted off the ground. At first she almost touched the gravel with her feet. It easily jumped over the gate and was soon flying over the crowns of cherry trees.

She's flying, Jane, she's flying! Michael wept bitterly.

Quicker! Jane shouted. - Take Barbara, and I'll take John, let them look at her one last time.

Now neither she nor Michael doubted that Mary Poppins had left them forever, because the wind had changed.

They grabbed the twins and carried them to the window. Mary Poppins flew high above the trees and rooftops, holding her umbrella firmly in one hand and her bag in the other.

The twins wept softly.

Jane and Michael opened the window and made one last desperate attempt to get her back:

Mary Poppins! they shouted. - Mary Poppins! Come back!

But as if she did not hear, she flew higher and higher among the clouds and wind, until at last she flew over the hill and disappeared from sight. The children watched for a long time as the cherries on the street bent and creaked from the furious gusts of the West wind ...

She just kept her word - flew away when the wind changed. Jane sighed, turned away from the window and put John to bed. Michael said nothing, carried Barbara to bed, covered her with a blanket and sobbed.

I wonder if we'll ever see her again? Jane said.

Children, children! cried Mrs. Banks, opening the door. - Children, I am very upset. Mary Poppins has left us.

Yes, Jane and Michael answered together.

So you knew? Mom was surprised. Did she tell you she was leaving?

Jane and Michael shook their heads.

This is unheard of! said Mrs. Banks. - The whole evening I went here - a second, and it's gone! She didn't even apologize. She just said, "I'm leaving," and that's it. More monstrous, more frivolous, more selfish act... What is it, Michael? - angry Mrs. Banks: Michael grabbed her by the skirt and began to shake. - What happened?

Did she promise to return? he shouted, nearly dropping Mrs. Banks. - Tell me, did you promise?

Phew, Michael, you're acting like a red Indian, - Mrs. Banks freed her skirt from Michael's tenacious fingers. - I don't remember what else she said: I only understood that she was leaving. And I certainly won't take her back if she ever gets the idea to come back. Leave me alone, without any help, without warning in advance!

Mother! Jane said reproachfully.

You are a very cruel woman, - Michael clenched his fists, as if preparing for an attack.

Children! I'm ashamed for you! How can you want this woman who did this to your mother to come back to our house! I'm shocked!

Jane burst into tears, and Michael said:

I don't want anyone else in the whole world but Mary Poppins! - and he suddenly fell to the floor and roared loudly.

Calm down, please, calm down! I can't understand it! Please, behave yourself. There is no one to look after you today. Dad and I are invited to dinner. And Ellen has the day off. Mrs. Brill will put you to bed.

Mrs. Banks kissed the children absently, a slight wrinkle appeared on her forehead, and she left the nursery ...

“…It doesn’t look like anything anymore. To leave and leave you, poor children, all alone, - sang Mrs. Brill, who entered the nursery. - This girl has a heart of stone, or my name is not Clara Brill! And after all was not podstupitsya to it! If only she left a handkerchief or a hairpin for a hat as a keepsake. Get up, please, Michael! she continued, panting. How could we endure so much! With all her tricks and snorts. How many buttons you have, Miss Jane! Don't move, please, Michael! Should I undress you or not? And it’s completely simple, there’s nothing to look at! For that matter, I think we'd be much better off without her! Where is your nightgown, Miss Jane? What is that under your pillow?

Mrs. Brill produced a neatly tied package.

What's this? Jane exclaimed. - Give it back now! - Jane was shaking with excitement and, before Mrs. Brill could open her mouth, snatched the package from her hands. Michael came over, Jane untied the ribbon and began to take off the wrapping, and Mrs. Brill retired to the twins. Finally, the last wrapper was removed and Jane had a frame with some kind of drawing in her hands.

This is her portrait, - she whispered, carefully examining it.

It was indeed her portrait. Carved frame, in it is the image of Mary Poppins, and at the bottom is the signature: “Mary Poppins. Drawn by Bert.

This is a matchmaker. That's who painted it, - said Michael, taking the portrait from Jane's hands.

And Jane suddenly noticed a letter enclosed in a frame. She carefully unfolded it and began to read:

"Dear Jane,

Michael got a compass, and you can have a portrait.

Mary Poppins".

Jane read aloud; reached an unfamiliar word and stopped.

Mrs Brill! she called. - What is "au revoir"?

What is "au revoir" baby? said Mrs. Brill from another room. - Now, now, let me think. I'm not strong in foreign languages. Maybe it means "Lord, have mercy"? Although, no. “Lord, have mercy” is something completely different. Ah, I remembered! It means, Miss Jane, "see you later."

Jane and Michael looked at each other. Their eyes shone with joy and hope. They understood what Mary Poppins wanted to tell them.

Are you crying, Michael? Jane asked.

No, I'm not crying. Just something in the eye.

She gently pushed her brother to his bed, and when he lay down, she quickly thrust a frame with a portrait into his hand, otherwise she would suddenly become sorry.

Tonight you will sleep with him, - Jane whispered to him and tucked the blanket around on all sides, as Mary Poppins did.