A Quote by Sarah Chauncey Woolsey

The sobbing wind is fierce and strong; its cry is like a human wail. — © Sarah Chauncey Woolsey
The sobbing wind is fierce and strong; its cry is like a human wail.
I cry all the time. It's more like when didn't you cry. My friends are like, 'Oh God, she's sobbing again.' I cry if I'm happy, sad, normal... What really gets me is when I read a sad story about a child in the paper, especially at the moment with my hormones raging.
Like a fierce wind roaring high up in the bare branches of trees, a wave of passion came over me, aimless but surging . . . I suppose it's lust, but it's awful and holy like thunder and lightning and the wind.
The harmonica is the most voice-like instrument, you can make it wail, feel happy, or cry. It's like singing the blues without words.
Loud wind, strong wind, sweeping o'er the mountains, Fresh wind, free wind, blowing from the sea, Pour forth thy vials like streams from airy mountains, Draughts of life to me.
I suppose being fierce is a very good thing, and a very cool thing. But more than fierce, I think I'm a strong person and a strong individual. And that's what I take with me every day.
Like wind-- In it, with it, of it. Of it just like a sail, so light and strong that, even when it is bent flat, it gathers all the power of the wind without hampering its course. Like light-- In light, lit through by light, transformed into light. Like the lens which disappears in the light it focuses. Like wind. Like light. Just this--on these expanses, on these heights.
When the wind carries a cry which is meaningful to human ears, it is simpler to believe the wind shares with us some part of the emotion of Being than that the mysteries of a hurricane's rising murmur reduce to no more than the random collision of insensate molecules.
If we are all strong, stable, we can set our sail with any wind in the world that comes along. We make up our own direction. If we are not strong, we are like a leaf in the wind and the world's winds will take us where they wish, not where we wish. So we meditate, every day, regularly, and gain transcendental being in our everyday life and then we are strong. When we are all infused with Being, we need not think which course is right, we just take the one that is automatically. Being is the wind-resister and the sail-setter.
Rough wind, the moanest loud Grief too sad for song; Wild wind, when sullen cloud Knells all the night long; Sad storm, whose tears are vain, Bare woods, whose branches strain, Deep caves and dreary main, Wail, for the world's wrong!
Storm the castle Stem the tide Rise above yourself Cry baby cry Cry cry to heaven If that doesn't do it for you Go ahead and cry like hell
Wise men ne'er sit and wail their woes, but presently prevent the ways to wail.
A melancholy sound is in the air, A deep sigh in the distance, a shrill wail Around my dwelling. 'Tis the Wind of night.
Oh, I was sobbing, like, so bad when baby arrived. Like, I don't think people have seen a man sobbing like that. It was awful, but in the most joyful way. I mean, I was picking that baby up and putting him on me. And the baby, like, halfway opened his eyes and it just made me feel like, 'Oh my god, this is the most incredible thing.'
The sobbing of the weak today is the sobbing of the victims of neoliberal policies. They consist of billions of people all over the world.
Morgan sighed. "I," she announced, "am so pathetic." "You are not," I said. "I am." She went over and straightened the cling wrap, corner to corner. "Do you know how many times I've brought in devilled eggs? This is, like, the only time I haven't been sobbing and that's only 'cause I cried all night. And Norman," she said, her voice rising to a wail, "sweet Norman, always just acts so surprised to see the eggs, and pleased, and he never, once, has ever acted like he knew what they meant."
I don't feel like I have to be nice and apologetic all of the time. I'm trying to be strong and fierce.
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