Azar Nafisi Quotes

But the wild is unpredictable, stuff does happen, and it's always when you're least expecting it.

Some things are so unexpected that no one is prepared for them.

Revolution is as unpredictable as an earthquake and as beautiful as spring. Its coming is always a surprise, but its nature should not be.

When I look back at my childhood on the Ayrshire coast, I recall a basic devotion to the idea that human nature and national character are as unknowable as the weather's rationale.

Most of my memories are the sound of rain on caravan roofs.

Liverpool was a special city that took to me; I will always remember how special that place was. I obviously don't miss the rain.

Every time I go to Athens, it's not just a trip down memory lane; there's some surprise. I always meet somebody new, or some crazy party happens, or there's some amazing event.

After a day of cloud and wind and rain Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again, And touching all the darksome woods with light, Smiles on the fields until they laugh and sing, Then like a ruby from the horizon's ring, Drops down into the night.

The smell of moist earth and lilacs hung in the air like wisps of the past and hints of the future.

What should we speak of When we are old as you? when we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December? how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away?

Spring never is spring unless it comes too soon.

Stormy skies, says Ernesto. He grieved for them. Summer rain. Childhood.

Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived. The odors of fruits waft me to my southern home, to my childhood frolics in the peach orchard. Other odors, instantaneous and fleeting, cause my heart to dilate joyously or contract with remembered grief. Even as I think of smells, my nose is full of scents that start awake sweet memories of summers gone and ripening fields far away.

Anything can happen in the blink of an eye. Anything at all. One. Two. Three. Blink.

The sight of anything extremely beautiful, in nature or in art, brings back the memory of what one loves, with the speed of lightning.

I love the rain - it washes memories off the sidewalk of life.

World is suddener than we fancy it.

I have a thousand images of you in an hour; all different and all coming back to the same. I think of you once against a sky line: and on the hill that Sunday morning. The light and the shadow and quietness and the rain and the wood. And you. Your arms and lips and hair and shoulders and voice - you.

He will hear the rain before he feels it, a clicking on the dry grass, on the olive leaves.

Every day is ordinary, until it isn't.

Life ... is never the way one imagines it. It surprises you, it amazes you, and it makes you laugh or cry when you don't expect it.

All wines are by their very nature full of reminiscence, the golden tears and red blood of summers that are gone.

But what is memory if not the language of feeling, a dictionary of faces and days and smells which repeat themselves like the verbs and adjectives in a speech, sneaking in behind the thing itself,into the pure present, making us sad or teaching us vicariously.

I'm from Cleveland. I like thunderstorms; I like a little rain in my life.

The rain is sharp today, as you shock me sane.