only when it rains. and sometimes, too, when i remember.
And I know you're frightened By my laughter But you're not afraid To hold my pain You see I'm never sure Just what you're after, Babe But it seems you only love me When it rains. How come you only love me when it rains?
I have a weird life because I live on songwriting royalties, which are a strange income. Sometimes it rains, sometimes it doesn't.
It didn’t rain for you, maybe, but it always rains for me. The sky shatters and rains shards of glass.
He can't remeber who he is or where he lives." "Well that's convenient." "Not when it rains.
We all have had a crush at one time or another in our lives. Sometimes, a crush is something that lives only within our hearts, bound never to see the light of day. Other times, having a crush on someone leads eventually to asking them out, dating, and even marriage.
Sometimes when it rains, it's not that simple, when the sky has reasons to cry.
Maybe love is like rain. Sometimes gentle, sometimes torrential, flooding, eroding, joyful, steady, filling the earth, collecting in underground springs. When it rains, when we love, life grows.
Weather is real. It is absolutely real: when it rains, it rains – you get wet, there is no question about it. It is also true about weather that you can’t control it; you can’t say if I wish hard enough it won’t rain. It is equally true that if the weather is bad one day it will get better and what I had to learn was to treat my moods like the weather.
Sometimes you're traveling a highway, the only road you've ever known and wham! A semi comes from nowhere and rolls right over you. Sometimes you dont wake up. But if you happen to you know things will never be the same. Sometimes that's not so bad. Sometimes lives instersect, no rhyme, no reason, except, perhaps, for a passing semi.
My favorite weather pattern happens to be when it rains mud. Dust comes through. Rain on top of it. It rains mud.
Ineffective people live day after day with unused potential. They experience synergy only in small, peripheral ways in their lives. But creative experiences can be produced regularly, consistently, almost daily in people's lives. It requires enormous personal security and openness and a spirit of adventure.
Each day she removes a small portion of the unwanted things in people's lives, though all of it, she thinks, was previously wanted, once useful. She feels the sun scorching the back of her neck. The heat is at its worst now, the rains still a few months away. The task satisfies her. It passes the time.
The day is dark and cold and dreary; it rains, and the wind is never weary.
Schoolteachers are not fully appreciated by parents until it rains all day Saturday.
Nature is one with rapine, a harm no preacher can heal; The Mayfly is torn by the swallow, the sparrow speared by the shrike, And the whole little wood where I sit is a world of plunder and prey.