Painted The Sky Quotes

#1. A fresh lightning tree sprouted in the distance as Mother Nature painted the sky in rapid strokes, strobed the results, and then erased her magnificent creation, leaving its after-image burned into Rolf's retinas. So beautiful. So fleeting. Like life itself.

Richard Phillips

#2. You wrote my thoughts
For all the world to see
Painted the sky
With immortal words

Marie Symeou

#3. The mountains were breathtakingly beautiful. It was so serene and tranquil. The rising sun with other balloons around it painted the sky with a silhouette that was major eye candy.

Jenna Roads

#4. People often tell me how much they love the digital skies that we obviously painted for 'War Horse.' Well, there's not a single sky that we put in through special effects. The skies you see in the movie are the skies that we experienced - but it was definitely challenging at times.

Steven Spielberg

#5. As a gift to His people, the King painted their seven colors in the shape of a bridge in the sky, as a symbol for the real bridge that the people had just crossed.

E. Mellyberry

#6. Autumn that year painted the countryside in vivid shades of scarlet, saffron and russet, and the days were clear and crisp under harvest skies.

Sharon Kay Penman

#7. The land is all too shallow
It is painted on the sky
And trembles like the wind-shook rain
When the Raven King passed by

Susanna Clarke

#8. This time when she picked up her paints, she didn't think, she just painted. It was like opening the door onto a storm. The canvas was her doorway and the paint all the thunder and lightning, the wild pain-filled sky caught inside her.

Michelle Frost

#9. The castle grounds were gleaming in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiled at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake, the satin-green lawns rippled occasionally in a gentle breeze: June had arrived.

J.K. Rowling

#10. i
let myself
know
that my life
doesn't
have to be over
just because
theirs are
& i went
ahead
& painted
the sun
back into
my sky.
I am allowed to live my life.

Amanda Lovelace

#11. She looked as the fireworks exploded in a shower of sparks - sparks that painted the clouds overhead as they fell, one by one, in streaking lines of golden fire, like angels falling from the sky.

Cassandra Clare

#12. I possess a gorgeous world.
I created it and painted it like a five
years old, where the sky is woven
with golden threads and the sun is
pearl white.
But alas! You can't observe it as they
are positioned inside my mind my
imaginations ...
-Rohan Nath

Rohan Nath

#13. My world was a sunny sky before him, a pretty picture my mother drew for me, and he painted it all black with the truth, splattering it with red from the bloodshed.

J.M. Darhower

#14. Just a rock, a dome of snow, the deep blue sky, and a hunk of orange-painted metal from which a shredded American flag cracked in the wind. Nothing more. Except two tiny figures walking together those last few feet to the top of the Earth.

Tom Hornbein

#15. The world seemed leached of color. The river was the color of steel, the sky gray as a dove, the horizon a thick black painted line in the distance.

Cassandra Clare

#16. You ever think about the noose?'

'I been thinking about the noose since I was born.

Stacey Lee

#17. The sky grew darker, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of night.

Haruki Murakami

#18. Tell people an invisible man in the sky created all things, they believe you. Tell them what you've painted is wet, they have to touch it to believe.

George Carlin

#19. The scenery of mountains painted on the ever-changing azure canvas of the sky, the mysterious mechanism of the human body, the rose, the green grass carpet, the magnanimity of souls, the loftiness of minds, the depth of love - all these things remind us of a God who is beautiful and noble.

Paramahansa Yogananda

#20. It was like those old Star Trek sets - you ignored the polystyrene boulders and painted sky to concentrate on watching Kirk pace around like a caged tiger. Well, I always had, anyway. The man even managed to make those awful uniforms look sexy.

Josephine Myles

#21. Fly you crows. My father was not a spectacle. He was the greatest man I ever knew. He was my everything.

Stacey Lee

#22. Bursts of gold on lavender melting into saffron. It's the time of day when the sky looks like it has been spray-painted by a graffiti artist.

Mia Kirshner

#23. 1821, I told him, noting mailboxes of castles and pirate ships and the street numbers painted on them. I had to fis hmy penlight from my pack to see the numbers; streetlights were scarce, and the sky bulged with low, sooty clouds instead of helpful moonlight.

Dia Reeves

#24. Now as at all times I can see in the mind's eye, In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky With all their ancient faces like rain- beaten stones, And all their helms of silver hovering.

William Butler Yeats

#25. October is the month for painted leaves. Their rich glow now flashes round the world. As fruits and leaves and the day itself acquire a bright tint just before they fall, so the year near its setting. October is its sunset sky; November the later twilight.

Henry David Thoreau

#26. It was a lovely uneventful spring evening. The sky grew darker, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of night. When

Haruki Murakami

#27. Like the kite that caught up to the sky,
painted with clouds, I lost track of it,
but it was connected
by string, something I was holding,
something I could always
bring back.

Kelli Russell Agodon

#28. My headless shadow fell across the warm painted metal, disappearing off the edge, and into the sky.

Kami Garcia

#29. The sky was painted over, a perfect uniform gray. On days like this the clouds probably absorbed the sounds from the surface of the earth. And not just sounds. All kinds of things. Perceptions, for example.

Haruki Murakami

#30. The sky was rarely more than pale blue or violet, with a profusion of mighty, weightless, ever-changing clouds towering up and sailing on it, but it has blue vigour in it, and at a short distance it painted the ranges of hills and the woods a fresh deep blue.

Karen Blixen

#31. Aurora hail, and all the thousand dies,
Which deck thy progress through the vaulted skies:
The morn awakes, and wide extends her rays,
On ev'ry leaf the gentle zephyr plays;
Harmonious lays the feather'd race resume,
Dart the bright eye, and shake the painted plume.

Phillis Wheatley

#32. The sky is the color of gray flannel, the darkness broken only by the dormer window of another early riser. The woman who lives in that attic painted her walls yellow, and the reflected light bounces out like a spring crocus. If light were sound, her window would be playing a concerto.

Eloisa James