Top 41 Wild Air Quotes
#2. The richest of all lords is Use,
And ruddy Health the loftiest Muse.
Live in the sunshine, swim the sea,
Drink the wild air's salubrity.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
#3. He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life. He was alone and young and wilful and wildhearted, alone amid a waste of wild air and brackish waters and the seaharvest of shells and tangle and veiled grey sunlight.
Jon Krakauer
#4. All Americans have benefited from the dedicated service of Representative Henry Waxman. In every battle and in every moment that mattered most, Rep. Waxman stood up for the air we breathe, the water we drink, and the wild places we cherish.
Frances Beinecke
#5. Somewhere, out at the edges, the night / Is turning and the waves of darkness / Begin to brighten the shore of dawn ... The heavy dark falls back to earth / And the freed air goes wild with light, / The heart fills with fresh, bright breath / And thoughts stir to give birth to colour
John O'Donohue
#6. I think hawking is the nearest thing to flying in this world. There you sit high up and poised light as air, the horse swift beneath you. You unhood your bird, let the jesses go and watch your falcon, its bells a-jingle, like some wild spirit take the air ... and your own spirit goes with it.
Hilda Lewis
#7. And then, the unspeakable purity - and freshness of the air! There was just enough heat to enhance the value of the breeze, and just enough wind to keep the whole sea in motion, to make the waves come bounding to the shore, foaming and sparkling, as if wild with glee.
Anne Bronte
#8. And still the mad magnificent herald Spring assembles beauty from forgetfulness with the wild trump of April:witchery of sound and odour drives the wingless thing man forth in the bright air ...
E. E. Cummings
#9. Awestruck, Flora stared at the dishevelled sisters with their blazing faces and radiant ragged wings, who smelled of no kin but the wild high air.
Laline Paull
#10. I want limits, damn it. I'll accept omens and portents and second sight. I'll accept giant black hounds and creepy ravens and magpies. I'm still working out the fae and Wild Hunt thing. But I draw the line at people disappearing into thin air.
Kelley Armstrong
#11. The odors of perfume were fanned out on the summer air by the whirling vents of the grottoes where the women hid like undersea creatures, under electric cones, their hair curled into wild whorls and peaks, their eyes shrewd and glassy, animal and sly, their mouths painted a neon red.
Ray Bradbury
#12. I have wandered over Europe, have rambled to Iceland, climbed the Alps, been for some years lodged among the marshes of Essex - yet nothing that I have seen has quenched in me the longing after the fresh air, and love of the wild scenery, of Dartmoor.
Sabine Baring-Gould
#13. A hush came over the world, and it grew dark. There was no sunlight at the bottom of the redwood forest, only a dim, gray-green glow, like the light at the bottom of the sea. The air grew sweet, and carried a tang of lemons. They became aware of a vast forest canopy spreading over their heads.
Richard Preston
#14. I recognised the air - it was a wild Hungarian dance popular in the theatres, and I reflected for a moment that this was the first time I had ever heard Zann play the work of another composer.
H.P. Lovecraft
#15. Tiresome heart, forever living and dying,
House without air, I leave you and lock your door.
Wild swans, come over the town, come over
The town again, trailing your legs and crying!
Edna St. Vincent Millay
#16. I clasp the flask between my hands even though the warmth from the tea has long since leached into the frozen air. My muscles are clenched tight against the cold. If a pack of wild dogs were to
Suzanne Collins
#17. A heaven so clear, an earth so calm, So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air; And, deepening still the dreamlike charm, Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere.
Emily Bronte
#18. At last came the golden month of the wild folk-- honey-sweet May, when the birds come back, and the flowers come out, and the air is full of the sunrise scents and songs of the dawning year.
Samuel Scoville Jr.
#19. The air is full of a farewell- deserted by the silver lake lies the wild world, overturned. Cities rise where the mountains fell, the furnace where the phoenix burned
Kathleen Raine
#20. The apparition of an evil, sick unconscious wild city rose before me in visible semblance, and about the dead buildings in the barren air, the bodies of the soul that built the wonderland shuffled and stalked and stalked and lurched in attitudes of immemorial nightmare all around.
Allen Ginsberg
#21. A breeze had come up and there was the scent of loam in the air. Hay and fertilizer. Sweet grass and wild ginger. April.
Alice Hoffman
#22. Pop, pop, sounded in the air, and the two wild geese fell dead among the rushes, and the water was tinged with blood.
Hans Christian Andersen
#23. And the sky all wild, all free, all wind and air and space and stars.
John Fowles
#24. With her enchanting songs, her rare beauty, and clever tricks, this wild 'wanderess' ensnared my soul like a gypsy-thief, and led me foolish and blind to where you find me now. The first time I saw her, fires were alight. It was a spicy night in Barcelona. The air was fragrant and free.
Roman Payne
#25. Every falling leaf reminds me that I too will soon be separated from these trees. Trying to capture freedom is like trying to catch a falling leaf. Occasionally you may grab one out of the air and hold it in your hands, but now what?
Daniel J. Rice
#26. So much adrenaline, emotion and futility hung in the air, throttling our bones, stirring our blood, making us starved, wild animals. Death made sex feel much more alive.
Karina Halle
#27. Ah! the year is slowly dying,
And the wind in tree-top sighing,
Chant his requiem.
Thick and fast the leaves are falling,
High in air wild birds are calling,
Nature's solemn hymn.
Mary Weston Fordham
#28. It came with the wind through the silence of the night, a long, deep mutter, then a rising howl, and then the sad moan in which it died away. Again and again it sounded, the whole air throbbing with it, strident, wild and menacing.
Arthur Conan Doyle
#29. Let me arise and open the gate,
to breathe the wild warm air of the heath,
And to let in Love, and to let out Hate,
And anger at living and scorn of Fate,
To let in Life, and to let out Death.
Violet Fane
#30. Those herbs which perfume the air most delightfully, not passed by as the rest, but, being trodden upon and crushed, are three; that is, burnet, wild thyme and watermints. Therefore, you are to set whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure when you walk or tread.
Francis Bacon
#31. Listen! the wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves, we have had our summer evenings, now for October eves!
Humbert Wolfe
#32. What was it about that short creature with her wild hair and spurious air of purity and why would anyone much less two men love her and to such disastrous ends.
Anna Godbersen
#33. Sutter Laughed. You were just being honest. Maybe needed is the wrong word. Wanted. I want to be wanted. I want to be someone's air. I want to feel like my presence makes their life better, just by simply existing.
Ashley Jeffery
#34. My favorite animal to hunt is probably elk. There's nothing like the sound of a bugling bull splitting the cold air at first light. And that smell is unmistakable. Once you experience their musk in the wild there's no going back! A close second would be a varmint hunt.
Chris Pratt
#35. I will never get to tell him I love him, even if my love was never enough. The empty ache grows and throbs in my chest. It's a living and breathing thing inside me. Sucking the air from my lungs, and the warmth from my body. The ache and pain leaves me hollow and cold.
Ashley Jeffery
#36. She walked with Bertram; she walked rather like a stag, with a little give of the ankles, fanning herself, majestic, silent, with all her senses roused, her ears pricked, snuffing the air, as if she had been some wild, but perfectly controlled creature taking its pleasure by night.
Virginia Woolf
#37. The morrow was a bright September morn; The earth was beautiful as if newborn; There was nameless splendor everywhere, That wild exhilaration in the air, Which makes the passers in the city street Congratulate each other as they meet.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
#38. So the being grows rings; identity becomes robust. What was fiery and furtive like a fling of grain cast into the air and blown hither and thither by wild gusts of life from every quarter is now methodical and orderly and flung with a purpose
so it seems.
Virginia Woolf
#39. Meanwhile, spring came, and with it the outpourings of Nature. The hills were soon splashed with wild flowers; the grass became an altogether new and richer shade of green; and the air became scented with fresh and surprising smells
of jasmine, honeysuckle, and lavender.
Dalai Lama XIV
#40. Furious and wild with fear, the potatoes flailed the air with their leaves and stamped their roots, but obviously this got them nowhere.
Stanislaw Lem
#41. I do believe that clean air, clean water, and wild mountains and old forests are our birthrights; that a wild and healthy landscape is, or should be, a constitutional right, a freedom, to be protected and celebrated. And as with any right, there is an attendant responsibility. I
Rick Bass
