Running Through The Rain Quotes & Sayings

The cab moves for a moment but then I see the blurry, glowing red lights through the downpour against my face and heavy lens of tears covering my eyes. The cab's brake lights. The car has stopped, as have I-and then I see the back door open.
It's my Jack Henry.
He gets out of the cab and stands in the heavy rain looking back at me. I don't know how-because my body has turned to mush-but I'm off my knees and running toward him.
... I touch his face because I can't believe he's real. You sort of have a beard. Almost. I love it. It's sexy. — Georgia Cates

No stopping, though. Only running onward through the weak rain. Men charged with blades, but swords were so easy for Iseult to evade with Aeduan at her side. Together, they arced, they lunged, they ducked, they rolled. A fluid combination of steps built on blood and Threads. — Susan Dennard

A BIRTHDAY
Something continues and I don't know what to call it
though the language is full of suggestions
in the way of language
but they are all anonymous
and it's almost your birthday music next to my bones
these nights we hear the horses running in the rain
it stops and the moon comes out and we are still here
the leaks in the roof go on dripping after the rain has passed
smell of ginger flowers slips through the dark house
down near the sea the slow heart of the beacon flashes
the long way to you is still tied to me but it brought me to you
I keep wanting to give you what is already yours
it is the morning of the mornings together
breath of summer oh my found one
the sleep in the same current and each waking to you
when I open my eyes you are what I wanted to see. — W.S. Merwin

I decided we should get married no more of this running-through-the-rain shit. We should live in the same place, sleep in the same bed at night, wake up together in the morning, and whenever there's a tornado, I can take care of you and watch Baseball at the same time. — Curtis Sittenfeld

I can recall, as a young adult, running through the rain forest at the Forest Reserve, at times feeling a sense of fear when I felt I was in danger. In danger of confronting an ugly snake or a coral snake, which represented the greatest fear of someone in a rural area when you traverse the forest. — Anthony Carmona

When it's pouring rain and you're bowling along through the wet, there's satisfaction in knowing you're out there and the others aren't. — Peter Snell

Meteorology ... is quite as "scientific" as geology and far more so than archaeology - it actually makes more use of scientific instruments, computers, and higher mathematics ... Yet we laugh at the weatherman every other day; we are not overawed by his impressive paraphernalia, because we can check up on him any time we feel like it: he makes his learned pronouncements - and then it rains or it doesn't rain.
No scientific conclusion is to be trusted without testing - to the extent to which exact sciences are exact they are also experimental sciences; it is in the laboratory that the oracle must be consulted. But the archaeologist is denied access to the oracle. For him there is no neat and definitive demonstration; he is doomed to plod along, everlastingly protesting and fumbling through a laborious, often rancorous running debate that never ends. — Hugh Nibley

I see myself as a Scottish sky: there are rain clouds, rainbows and sunrays that run and overtake one another, mingle together and dance with each other! You see all of this within seconds of looking up! It's a living sky, it breathes and it's real! And I think that when you look at me, you'll see my rain clouds first, because only after rainclouds can there come the rainbows. You see, if the rainbows come first, then the rainbows aren't even real, so I think that if people deserve to see my real rainbows, then they will just know that they need to stick around through the rain! Like a Scottish sky, I want to be real and breathing and running. I don't want to be a clear blue all the time, or a dark grey all the time or have fake rainbows painted onto me; I want to be Scottish. — C. JoyBell C.

The books in Mo and Meggie's house were stacked under tables, on chairs, in the corners of the rooms. There were books in the kitchen and books in the lavatory. Books on the TV set and in the closet, small piles of books, tall piles of books, books thick and thin, books old and new. They welcomed Meggie down to breakfast with invitingly opened pages; they kept boredom at bay when the weather was bad. And sometimes you fell over them. "He's just standing there!" whispered Meggie, leading Mo into her room. "Has he got a hairy face? If so he could be a werewolf." "Oh, stop it!" Meggie looked at him sternly, although his jokes made her feel less scared. Already, she hardly believed anymore in the figure standing in the rain - until she knelt down again at the window. "There! Do you see him?" she whispered. Mo looked out through the raindrops running down the — Cornelia Funke

He opens his window and motions for me to open mine. When I do, he tries to say something. His voice barely carries through the sound of the rain coming down hard between us.
I lean out the car window. "What?"
He leans out his window, meeting me halfway. We're both wet and soaked, but neither of us seems to care. "Don't run away from me when I need to tell you somethin' important."
"What?" I say, hoping he doesn't notice the tears running down my face, and praying they're getting mixed up with the rain.
"Tonight was ... well, it was perfect for me, too. You've turned my world upside down. I've fallen in love with you, chica, and it scares the fuckin' shit outta me. I've been shakin' all night, because I knew it. I've tried to deny it, to make you think I wanted you as a fake girlfriend, but that was a lie."
"I love you, Kiara," he says before his lips move forward and meet mine. — Simone Elkeles

Let the rain falling on your face run into your eyes. Can you see the rainbow now through the stormy skies? — Avril Lavigne

Life wasn't easy. It wasn't supposed to be. Yet with the right person, even the worst journey was tolerable. More than that, it could be fun. It wasn't about learning to suffer through the storm to make it to the daylight. Life was about running through the rain and laughing even while it soaked you to the bone. Dodging the lightning strikes and daring it to come for you. — Sherrilyn Kenyon

Or I would be the rain itself, wreathing over the island, mingling in the quiet of moist places, filling its pores with its saturated breaths. And I would be the wind, whispering through the tangled woods, running airy fingers over the island's face, tingling in the chill of concealed places, sighing secrets in the dawn. And I would be the light, flinging over the island, covering it with flash and shadow, shining on rocks and pools, softening to a touch in the glow of dusk. If I were the rain and wind and light, I would encircle the island like the sky surrounding earth, flood through it like a heart driven pulse, shine from inside it like a star in flames, burn away to blackness in the closed eyes of its night. There are so many ways I could love this island, if I were the rain. — Richard Nelson

I don't know the word for the feeling if there is one, but it's that feeling you get - or I hope you get it, anyway - when you realize the smallness of you, and the largeness of Everything Else. I'm not saying God necessarily. I'm saying you're outside at night and it's raining and you don't have an umbrella and you're running to get inside but then you stop and maybe you hold your hands palms up and feel the rain pound against your fingerprints and soak through your clothes and your wet hair against your neck and you realize how amazing it is while the thunder cracks. — John Green

The night was fading. It was too early to be called dawn yet, but Taylor could just make out the outline of Will's weary, unshaven face. His deep blue eyes were the only color in the gray world of rain and shadows.
Will leaned in, and his mouth covered Taylor's, rough but sweet, his tongue seeking Taylor's. Taylor opened willingly to that kiss, forgetting for a second his scratched, scraped hands and the rain running down the back of his neck. They kissed a lot these days, especially for men who had never been much for kissing. Taylor had become expert in all Will's kisses, from the hungry, lustful kisses that always made his own cock rise so fast it hurt, to the tender, almost cherishing kisses that Will generally saved for when he thought Taylor was sleeping. That dawn kiss beneath the pine trees rippled through him like an electric shock, a reminder that, tired, wet, and lost as they might be, so long as they were together, they were all right. — Josh Lanyon

The air was warm and heavy as sprinkles began to fall from the clouds high above. The Triton glided through the waters and the whoosh of the ship combined with the steady beat of the rain to make a concerto, like a pianist fluttering his fingers on the keys at one end and running his fingers up and down the scales at the other. Expectancy hung in the air as the tune moved to a crescendo. — Victoria Kahler

I believe in running through the rain and crashing into the person you love and having your lips bleed on each other. — Billy Bob Thornton

Later he would declare that not getting hit was like running through rain and not getting wet. — James D. Bradley

Without running, I would have missed the joy of rain. What could be considered an inconvenience or a bummer to the inexperienced is actually a gift. Without running, I would miss a lot of things-like seeing cities in a certain way, or knowing certain people all the way to the core. I'm glad we don't experience life through glass, under cover, or from the sidelines. Good things take miles. — Kristin Armstrong

He was one of a long line of mimsy and embittered middle-class sensitives who disguised their feeble and decadent lust as something spiritual and Socratic.
And why not? If it meant he had to end his days on some Mediterranean island writing lyric prose for Faber and Faber and literary criticism for the New Statesman, running through successions of houseboys and 'secretaries', getting sloshed on Fernet Branca and having to pay off the Chief of Police every six months, then so be it. Better than driving to the office in the rain. — Stephen Fry

Salzburg ... is a mountain town with a rushing river running right through the center, everything in the rain various shades of green and brown. — Jonathan Carroll

I war running back to the house in Mayaguez with a melting ice cone we called a piraqua running sweet and sticky down my face and arms, the sun in my eyes, breaking through clouds and glinting off the rain-soaked pavement and dripping leaves. I was running with joy, an overwhelming joy that arose simply from gratitude for the fact of being alive. Along with the image, memory carried these words from a child's mind through time: I am blessed. In this life I am truly blessed. — Sonia Sotomayor