A Quote by Curt Gowdy
Folks, this is perfect weather for today's game. Not a breath of air.
Related Quotes
I hope weather coverage on a national level will help folks learn to respect the power of severe weather, and weather in general, so more lives are spared.
Just for the record, the weather today is calm and sunny, but the air is full of bullshit.
No man has ever been a perfect ballplayer. Stan Musial, however, is the closest to being perfect in the game today.
The perfect weather of Indian Summer lengthened and lingered, warm sunny days were followed by brisk nights with Halloween a presentiment in the air.
The soul is a breath of living spirit, that with excellent sensitivity, permeates the entire body to give it life. Just so, the breath of the air makes the earth fruitful. Thus the air is the soul of the earth, moistening it, greening it.
Cristiano has a lot to his game - he is good in the air, his shooting is perfect, his left foot perfect, and he is more of a striker than a winger now, a No. 9.
Whenever the weather licks the pilot instead of him lickin' the weather, he's finished. The first time makes the second time easier. And the first thing he knows, he's in trouble when the weather is perfect.
Instant replay ought to be thrown out. Period. It's a game of imperfections. Why is that so bad for the game? Really, I think they are trying to make the game perfect. I'll tell you what: It will never, ever be perfect.
Every breath is a sacrament, an affirmation of our connection with all other living things, a renewal of our link with our ancestors and a contribution to generations yet to come. Our breath is a part of life's breath, the ocean of air that envelopes the earth.
Pranayama is the practice of breath control. The word prana refers not only to breath, but also to air and life itself.
The air is precious to the red man, for all things share the same breath-the beast, the tree, the man, they all share the same breath. The white man does not seem to notice the air he breathes. Like a man dying for many days, he is numb to the stench.
Wind, weather, everything comes into play when you're in the kicking game - how far the ball is going to traveling in the air, where it's going to travel with the wind.
I instruct you to be the obeyer,
A rhythm recipe that you'll savor,
Doesn't matter if you're minor or major,
Yes, the Tribe of the game, rhythm player,
As you inhale like a breath of fresh air
Poetry's medium is not merely light as air, it is air: vital and deep as ordinary breath.
Listen to the air.
You can hear it, feel it,
smell it, taste it.
Woniya wakan, the holy air,
which renews all by its breath.
Woniya wakan, spirit, life, breath, renewal,
it means all that.
We sit together, don’t touch,
but something is there,
we feel it between us
as a presence.
A good way to start thinking
about nature
is to talk to it,
talk to the rivers, to the lakes,
to the winds,
as to our relatives.
Even the weather page is in a state of moral decay. What?s wrong with red, white and blue, USA Today? This rainbow weather map is just another example of the homometerological agenda.
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