A Quote by Peter May

You have these 'hot towers', tropical storm clouds acting like chimneys to carry heat to the upper atmosphere. — © Peter May
You have these 'hot towers', tropical storm clouds acting like chimneys to carry heat to the upper atmosphere.
The sun tells the best joke of a day full of them, setting so spectacularly that you can almost smell the tropical paradise lazing somewhere over this rim of endless, gray socialist towers. Miles of square windows explode orange, red, and purple, like a million TV sets broadcasting the apocalypse. Clouds unspool. The sky drains of birds.
There was a long history of people believing there was life on Venus. It was about the same size as Earth. It had clouds. It was commonly believed it was tropical - wet, hot and steamy.
Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.
I understand the atmosphere better than I ever did before. You feel the thermals while paragliding. You are in the clouds. Chasing a storm puts you in front of the cloud, not a book. I hope to learn as I do these things.
Like a tropical storm, I, too, may one day become ‘better organized.
For some reason I only crave fruit when I'm in a tropical place - if it's really hot in the summer or if I go to a tropical island for work. But otherwise I really don't crave it.
Each day the storm clouds were opening like great purple flowers and pouring out their dark thunder. Each nightfall, the storm was laid down on their houses like a burden the day had carried.
The city itself swung slowly toward us silent as a dream. No sign of life but puffs of steam from skyscraper chimneys, the motion of the traffic. The mighty towers stood like tombstones in a graveyard, leaning against the sky and waiting for -- for what? Someday we'll know.
There is good evidence that Venus once had liquid water and a much thinner atmosphere, similar to Earth billions of years ago. But today the surface of Venus is dry as a bone, hot enough to melt lead, there are clouds of sulfuric acid that reach a hundred miles high and the air is so thick it's like being 900 meters deep in the ocean.
Bermuda is not even tropical. The charm of the tropics - the heat, the chaos - is not there.
Walking the streets on winter nights kept him warm, despite the cold nocturnal passions of uprising winds. His footsteps led between trade-marked houses, two up and two down, with digital chimneys like pigs' tits on the rooftops sending up heat and smoke into the cold trough of a windy sky. Stars hid like snipers, taking aim now and again when clouds gave them a loophole. Winter was an easy time for him to hide his secrets, for each dark street patted his shoulder and became a friend, and the gaseous eye of each lamp glowed unwinking as he passed.
Before the storm comes the calm. Hope you can take the heat like LeBron
I like a little rebellion now and then. It is like a storm in the atmosphere.
A snake came to my water trough On a hot, hot day, and I in pajamas for the heat, To drink there.
Action comes from keeping the heat on. No politician can sit on a hot issue if you make it hot enough.
I remember not having a hot water tank, so we had to use a kettle for hot showers. So, you know, we would put the kettle on and go have a shower, and then my mum would come bring three or four kettles in, just to heat them up. And it would take five, 10 minutes for every kettle to heat up.
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