Tornado Love Quotes & Sayings

Bring the pure wine of
love and freedom.
But sir, a tornado is coming.
More wine, we'll teach this storm
A thing or two about whirling. — Rumi

In the spring of her twenty-second year, Sumire fell in love for the first time in her life. An intense love, a veritable tornado sweeping across the plains - flattening everything in its path, tossing things up in the air, ripping them to shreds, crushing them to bits. The tornado's intensity doesn't abate for a second as it blasts across the ocean, laying waste to Angkor Wat, incinerating an Indian jungle, tigers and everything, transforming itself into a Persian desert sandstorm, burying an exotic fortress city under a sea of sand. In short, a love of truly monumental proportions. The person she fell in love with happened to be 17 years older than Sumire. And was married. And, I should add, was a woman. This is where it all began, and where it all ended. Almost. — Haruki Murakami

February 2009
January 4. January 4. January 4. I rubbed the paper on my red calendar. I cried into the little box, into the last day we had sex.
I was a tornado. I puked hurricanes.
I was Jodi Arias. There were no more tears for him.
Swirling eddies of vodka, pills, fattening food, and tears. Vortexes corralled other vortexes. They joined forces with the eyes of other storms far out into the Gulf, and Atlantic, and castrated my heart first, then everything below the neck. Fuck the heart; my brain was mauled into mush. He didn't have a heart - and possibly, neither did I. The heart had nothing to do with a whirlpool of circles and left and rights I navigated. — Christy Heron

I opened my mouth to exclaim about the puppies. They were beauty and joy and innocence made of flesh and fur, in an ugly time when fear and sadness and mistrust hung over the world like a sickly green tornado sky. — Kelly Milner Halls

What is the world? What is it for?
It is an art. It is the best of all possible art, a finite picture of the infinite. Assess it like prose, like poetry, like architecture, sculpture, painting, dance, delta blues, opera, tragedy, comedy, romance, epic. Assess it like you would a Faberge egg, like a gunfight, like a musical, like a snowflake, like a death, a birth, a triumph, a love story, a tornado, a smile, a heartbreak, a sweater, a hunger pain, a desire, a fufillment, a desert, a waterfall, a song, a race, a frog, a play, a song, a marriage, a consummation, a thirst quenched.
Assess it like that. And when you're done, find an ant and have him assess the cathedrals of Europe. — N.D. Wilson

Maybe love, too, is beautiful because it has a wildness that cannot be tamed. I don't know. All I know is that passion can take you up like a house of cards in a tornado, leaving destruction in its wake. Or it can let you alone because you've built a stone wall against it, set out the armed guards to keep it from touching you. The real trick is not to let it in, but to hold on. To understand that the heart is as wide and vast as the universe, but that we come to know it best from here, this place is gravity and stability, where out feet can still touch ground. — Deb Caletti

I'm sorry, Shepley," I called after him.
He froze and wheeled around, with the face of a man that had reached his limit. "I wish you and Travis would just get your shit together! You're a goddamn tornado! When you're happy, it's love and peace and butterflies. When you're pissed, you take the whole fucking world down with you! — Jamie McGuire

Grandfather used to call the rain 'the erotic ritual between heaven and Earth.' The rain represented the seeds sown in the Earth's womb by heaven, her roaring husband, to further life. Rainy encounters between heaven and Earth were sexual love on a cosmic scale. All of nature became involved. Clouds, heaven's body, were titillated by the storm. In turn, heaven caressed the Earth with heavy winds, which rushed toward their erotic climax, the tornado. The grasses that pop out of the Earth's warm center shortly after the rain are called the numberless children of Earth who will serve humankind's need for nourishment. The rainy season is the season of life. Yes, it had rained the night before. — Malidoma Patrice Some

Well, who doesn't love a good mpreg?"
"A what?"
"Sim gets man-pregnant? Gives birth to twins during a tornado?"
"I'll pretend I never heard that."
"Here, I'll read you the wedding one -"
"NO. — J.C. Lillis

Yes
It could happen any time, tornado,
earthquake, Armageddon. It could happen.
Or sunshine, love, salvation.
It could, you know. That's why we wake
and look out - no guarantees
in this life.
But some bonuses, like morning,
like right now, like noon,
like evening. — William Stafford

I'll never let you go is scrawled three inches long down the side of my ribcage. The skin is still an angry red color, puffy and irritated looking. My gaze drifts up to Colin's in the mirror. I suck in a sharp breath as I'm caught up in a tornado of emotion. He has the same thing on his arm. They are simple, black ink only, but the meaning of the words are anything but. — K. Lars

She was chaos and beauty intertwined. A tornado of roses from divine. — Shakieb Orgunwall

Love can transform us. It can be a healing force or a disaster, a tidal wave, a tornado. It can burn and scar us or heal our scars. It can be the ghost that haunts us, or the best friend who reads our every thought. Love may arrive like an angel of mercy, a fairy with raven wings or a hairy beast that will tear us apart limb from limb, kill and savor us down to the bones. — Francesca Lia Block

It is a very long story, and I promise I'll spill all later. Condensed version: my mom is a Brannick, I am the unholy love child of a Brannick and a demon, and the bar for family dysfunction is now set super high."
Jenna, to her credit, knew when to just roll with it. "Okay, then."
"The more pressing question right now is, why are we back at Hex Hall?"
Jenna looked around, taking in the unnatural fog, the dilapidated (well, more dilapidated) feel of the house. "Something tells me it's not for a class ruinion."
"Did you get pulled through some kind of magic tornado, too?" I asked her.
"No, I flew in here as a bat. It's a new thing I learned from Byron."
"Ha ha," I said, swatting at her arm. — Rachel Hawkins