It is the stillest words that bring the storm.
Prosperity often presages adversity.
Hush! Still as death, The tempest holds his breath As from a sudden will; The rain stops short, but from the eaves You see it drop, and hear it from the leaves, All is so bodingly still.
Before the storm comes the calm. Hope you can take the heat like LeBron
Adrian's face was the picture of perfect politeness and restraint, meaning something disastrous was about to happen.
There are seasons of our lives when nothing seems to be happening, when no smoke betrays a burned town or homestead and few tears are shed for the newly dead. I have learned not to trust those times, because if the world is at peace then it means someone is planning war.
I like these calm little moments before the storm, it reminds me of Beethoven
The afternoon had made them tranquil for a while, as if to give them a deep memory for the long parting the next day promised.
Sometimes the silence can be like thunder.
O, the sweet, sweet twilight just before the time of rest, When the black clouds are driven away, and the stormy winds suppressed.
