Peaceful Scene Quotes

Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul.

It was a clear, starry night, dead calm. Whenever I see a sky like that, I wish I could write music

Even a war zone looks peaceful in most places, most of the time.

I wished for nothing beyond her smile, and to walk with her thus, hand in hand, along a sun warmed, flower bordered path.

The breezes taste Of apple peel. The air is full Of smells to feel- Ripe fruit, old footballs, Burning brush, New books, erasers, Chalk, and such. The bee, his hive, Well-honeyed hum, And Mother cuts Chrysanthemums. Like plates washed clean With suds, the days Are polished with A morning haze.

Up the road, in his shack, the old man was sleeping again. He was still sleeping on his face and the boy was sitting by him watching him. The old man was dreaming about the lions.

Snow falling soundlessly in the middle of the night will always fill my heart with sweet clarity

Dawn was breaking over the horizon, shell pink and faintly gold.

There was a sound in the background like a distant sheep coughing gently on a mountainside. Jeeves sailing into action.

Now I love to feel that warm southern rain, Just to hear it fall is the sweetest sounding thing. And to see it fall on your simple country dress It's like heaven to me I must confess.

My grandmother was content to sit in the back yard wearing her old, wide-brimmed summer hat and occasionally getting up to feed herself raspberries from the seemingly inexhaustible bushes.

The rain is playing its soft pleasant tune fitfully on the skylight, and the shade of the fast-flying clouds across my book passed with delicate change.

What is more gentle than a wind is summer?

The summer dawn's reflected hue To purple changed Lock Katrine blue, Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kiss'd the lake, just stirr'd the trees, And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, Trembled but dimpled not for joy.

Years ago I had a house in Sussex, it was like Arcadia, with an old Victorian bridge, a pond and the Downs.

As I stood and watched the mists slowly rising this morning I wondered what view was more beautiful than this.

I'm an old-fashioned guy... I want to be an old man with a beer belly sitting on a porch, looking at a lake or something.

On the Morning of Christ's Nativity Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep.

Thus I set my printless feet O'er the cowslip's velvet head, That bends not as I tread.

The sky was a midnight-blue, like warm, deep, blue water, and the moon seemed to lie on it like a water-lily, floating forward with an invisible current.

Snow flurries began to fall and they swirled around people's legs like house cats. It was magical, this snow globe world.

I call it the 'doll house,' ... It's absolutely gorgeous, especially at this time of year. It's a crisp sky and, you know, if we wake up on a clear morning, and then I take little Norm out for a walk, have a little coffee on the deck.

He drew forth a phrase from his treasure and spoke it softly to himself: A day of dappled seaborne clouds.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky, no wind, and everything was quiet around us - all we could hear were birds chirping in the woods. The war seemed like something in a faraway land that had nothing to do with us. We sang songs as we hiked up the hill, sometimes imitating the birds we heard. Except for the fact that the war was still going on, it was a perfect morning.

Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.