We know how rough the road will be, how heavy here the load will be, we know about the barricades that wait along the track, but we have see our soul ahead upon a certain goal ahead and nothing left from hell to sky shall ever turn us back

The sky was clear – remarkably clear – and the twinkling of all the stars seemed to be but throbs of one body, timed by a common pulse.

Triumphal arch, that fill’st the sky When storms prepare to part, I ask not proud Philosophy To teach me what thou art

Wishing on a sky/ Wishing on a scar/ If there’s the sun/ I’d want to dream.

When I was a little boy, my wish was to be on an airplane. My wish was to get on a plane and fly to the sky.

Good night; ensured release,
Imperishable peace,
Have these for yours. While sky and sea and land And earth’s foundations stand And heaven endures.

After two stories, I blew out my light. The night was clear. My ceiling was the sky and an eyelash of the moon. By shifting from side to side, I made my hammock swing me into sleep.

Aim for the stars and maybe you’ll reach the sky.

So how come it looks so beautiful? How come the moon falls from the sky?

She watches him for hours. She wants to be the sheets that cover his toes. She wants to be the ceiling separating him from the sky: above him, the first thing he sees before and after dreams. She wants to be the open window letting in the light for him.

Falling out of the sky was one thing, but doing so for unknown reasons was quite unacceptable. Having

Above the clouds the sky is always blue

Keep your nose out the sky, keep your heart to god, and keep your face to the rising sun.

We gonna touch the sky.

The sky is not the limit, your imagination is.

The leaf that spreads in the light is the only holiness there is. I haven’t found holiness in the faiths of mortals, or in their music, not in their dreams: it’s out in the open field, with the green rows looking at the sky. I don’t know what it is, this holiness: but it’s there, and it looks at the sky.
Probably though this is some conditioning the Company installed to ensure I’d be a good botanist. Well, I grew up into a good one. Damned good.

Those horses must have been Spanish jennets, born of mares mated with a zephyr; for they went as swiftly as the wind, and the moon, which had risen at our departure to give us light, rolled through the sky like a wheel detached from its carriage

The sky is an infinite movie to me. I never get tired of looking at what’s happening up there.

Kek finds sun when the sky is dark.

On Wednesday, when the sky is blue, and I have nothing else to do, I sometimes wonder if it’s true That who is what and what is who.” – Winnie-the-Pooh

When the stars were right, They could plunge from world to world through the sky; but when the stars were wrong, They could not live.

The moon is dark, and the gods dance in the night; there is terror in the sky, for upon the moon hath sunk an eclipse foretold in no books of men or of earth’s gods.

New York bakes in a cess of gritty fug all summer, and congeals into gray slush all winter. There are a couple of days in the spring and autumn when the sky is madonna blue, the air crisp, and the light bright and sparkling, and that’s when they take the pictures and make the romantic comedies

So I travelled, stopping ever and again, in great strides of a thousand years or more, drawn on by the mystery of the earth’s fate, watching with a strange fascination the sun grow larger and duller in the westward sky, and the life of the old earth ebbing out.

What does one plant who plants a tree? One plants the friend of sun and sky; One plants the flag of breezes free; The shaft of beauty towering high.

The sky is my prayer, the birds are my prayer, the wind in the trees is my prayer, for God is all in all.

A short time later, when the carpenter was taking measurements for the coffin, through the window they saw a light rain of tiny yellow flowers falling. They fell on the town all through the night in a silent storm, and they covered the roofs and blocked the doors and smothered the animals who slept outdoors. So many flowers fell from the sky that in the morning the streets were carpeted with a compact cushion and they had to clear them away with shovels and rakes so that the funeral procession could pass by.

Life is for living, not living uptight, see ya somewhere up in the sky.

I want to do all roles. The sky’s the limit.

There is another sky.

The brain is wider than the sky.

The sky is so close to the sea that it is difficult to tell which is reflected in the other, which one needs the other, which one is dominating the other.

The stars were only sparks of the fire which devoured us. Should that fire die out one day, there would be nothing left in the sky but dead stars, dead eyes.

You were red, you liked me ’cause I was blue. But you kissed me and suddenly I was a lilac sky. Then you decided purple just wasn’t for you.

I drink ’til I’m drunk, smoke til I’m high Castle on the hill, wake up in the sky

The sky is no longer the limit.

The Bible tells how a star appeared in the sky, its light guiding the shepherds and wise men to the scene of Jesus’s birth.

It’s wonderful to climb the liquid mountains of the sky. Behind me and before me is God and I have no fears.

The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don’t.

If you give your soul up to anything earthly, whether it be the wealth, or the honours, or the pleasures of this world, you might as well hunt after the mirage of the desert or try to collect the mists of the morning, or to store up for yourself the clouds of the sky, for all these things are passing away.

No stars gleam as brightly as those which glisten in the polar sky. No water tastes so sweet as that which springs amid the desert sand. And no faith is so precious as that which lives and triumphs through adversity.

And a beautiful world we live in, when it is possible, and when many other such things are possible, and not only possible, but done– done, see you!– under that sky there, every day.

Human beings grew up in forests; we have a natural affinity for them. How lovely a tree is, straining toward the sky.

If the constellations had been named in the twentieth century, I suppose we would see bicycles and refrigerators in the sky.

Our ancestors lived out of doors. They were as familiar with the night sky as most of us are with our favorite television programs.

The sky calls to us. If we do not destroy ourselves, we will one day venture to the stars.

I believe our future depends powerfully on how well we understand this cosmos in which we float, like a mote of dust in the morning sky.

Even today the most jaded city dweller can be unexpectedly moved upon encountering a clear night sky studded with thousands of twinkling stars. When it happens to me after all these years it still takes my breath away.

I have seen the movement of the sinews of the sky, And the blood coursing in the veins of the moon.

It was curious to think that the sky was the same for everybody, in Eurasia or Eastasia as well as here. And the people under the sky were also very much the same–everywhere, all over the world, hundreds or thousands of millions of people just like this, people ignorant of one another’s existence, held apart by walls of hatred and lies, and yet almost exactly the same–people who had never learned to think but were storing up in their hearts and bellies and muscles the power that would one day overturn the world.

In the sky, there is no distinction of east and west; people create distinctions out of their own minds and then believe them to be true.

When you realize how perfect everything is you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky.

The way is not in the sky. The way is in the heart.

My childhood was full of deep sorrows – colic, whooping-cough, dread of ghosts, hell, Satan, and a Deity in the sky who was angry when I ate too much plumcake.

Simple things bring them to mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or even a storm cloud on the horizon

No one is free, even the birds are chained to the sky.

Always try to keep a patch of sky above your life.

We think too small, like the frog at the bottom of the well. He thinks the sky is only as big as the top of the well. If he surfaced, he would have an entirely different view

Women hold up half the sky.

Listen for the magic word of motivation and you will hear it. And then? Well, the sky is the limit!

She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes, the slow dance of the infinite stars.

I promise to be an excellent husband, but give me a wife who, like the moon, will not appear every day in my sky.

The thoughts that occur to me while I’m running are like clouds in the sky. Clouds of all different sizes. They come and they go, while the sky remains the same sky always

As long as you can look fearlessly at the sky, you’ll know that you’re pure within and will find happiness once more

It’s not imagination on my part when I say that to look up at the sky, the clouds, the moon, and the stars make me calm and patient. It’s a better medicine than either valerian or bromine; mother nature makes me humble and prepared to face every blow courageously

When I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that everything will change for the better, that this cruelty too will end, that peace and tranquility will return once more

I looked up in the sky and trusted in God

As long as this exists, this sunshine and this cloudless sky, and as long as I can enjoy it, how can I be sad?

It’s hard to hold the hand of anyone who is reaching for the sky just to surrender.

We are so small between the stars, so large against the sky.

Think I’ll miss you forever. Like the stars miss the sun in the mornin’ sky.

Once you have tasted the taste of sky, you will forever look up.

You don’t look out there for God, something in the sky, you look in you.

Once You Have Tasted Flight You Will Walk the Earth With Your Eyes Turned Skyward.

Those who have tried to fly will walk looking at the sky, because they have been there and want to return.