A Quote by John J. Geddes

Sunday evenings are heavier than clouds with rain, darker too and often interminable. — © John J. Geddes
Sunday evenings are heavier than clouds with rain, darker too and often interminable.
I really enjoy spending Sunday evenings with friends, because Sunday evenings are always frightening. You are obsessed by the fact that you are working again the next day. And sometimes you get the blues.
I really enjoy spending Sunday evenings with friends, because Sunday evenings are always frightening. You are obsessed by the fact that you are working again the next day. And sometimes you get the blues. I always decide to spend it with friends. It's very nice.
Sunday evenings often feel like the weekend is over before it's even begun.
When we look deeply into the heart of a flower, we see clouds, sunshine, minerals, time, the earth, and everything else in the cosmos in it. Without clouds there could be no rain, and without rain there would be no flower.
Winter hurled more wind and rain at the city than it ever had before. Clouds dashed about in all directions emptying their thunder, hail and rain. The horizon was choked in fog.
I was getting really influenced by some darker, heavier electro stuff, like Crystal Castles. And I was listening to some dub-step elements, so I thought this was going to be the natural progression, taking my soft melodies and my soft voice and marrying it with something a little heavier.
[on going to Sunday school:] It looks like rain, and I hope it will rain cats and dogs and hammers and pitchforks and silver sugar spoons and hay ricks and paper-covered novels and picture frames and rag carpets and toothpicks and skating rinks and birds of paradise and roof gardens and burdocks and French grammars before Sunday school time.
Are the days of winter sunshine just as sad for you, too? When it is misty, in the evenings, and I am out walking by myself, it seems to me that the rain is falling through my heart and causing it to crumble into ruins.
Then climate is a great impediment to idle persons; we often resolve to give up the care of the weather, but still we regard the clouds and the rain.
April Rain It is not raining rain to me, It's raining daffodils; In every dimpled drop I see Wild flowers on the hills. The clouds of gray engulf the day And overwhelm the town; It is not raining rain to me, It's raining roses down. It is not raining rain to me, But fields of clover bloom, Where any buccaneering bee May find a bed and room. A health unto the happy! A fig for him who frets!- It is not raining rain to me, It's raining violets.
I often liken my love life to the pathetic fallacy found in a Bronte novel: a long and winding road tented by storm clouds and rain. Kidding.
All Birds find shelter during a rain. But Eagle avoids rain by flying above the Clouds. Problems are common, but attitude makes the difference!!!
God sends rain, but He also sends hoods; and when the rain grows heavier, He sends a cave.
You never know: rain, sleet, hail, snow, See you gotta accept that's how things go. Prepare for the rainy day, or the sun's glow, But there's clouds movin' in and the clouds gonna blow.
Einstein uses his concept of God more often than a Catholic priest. Once I asked him: 'Tomorrow is Sunday. Do you want me to come to you, so we can work?' 'Why not?' 'Because I thought perhaps you would like to rest on Sunday.' Einstein settled the question by saying with a loud laugh: 'God does not rest on Sunday either.'
I grew up listening to my grandfather's stories of our musical past. He would often talk about the orchestras that played at concerts and the musicians who played on Sunday evenings on street corners. By the time I grew up in the '80s, all of this was a thing of the past. I lived vicariously through his stories and often wondered what it would have felt like to have been part of his generation.
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