sky

A skydiver, arrogant in his ability to navigate the heavens, rejects his fragile state and calls himself a God of the skies.

But you should see the sky tonight.Screw your astrology apps. Screw your games. Look up sometime. There is a whole wing of positive psychology--my therapist told me--that says the greatest way to affect your outlook on life is to consider what you already have more than what you don't have. And so I might not have a cell phone on me, or a sister at home, or a Dad at all, or a future, but holy shit I have the sky.

If you always look at the sky, you miss the good things on the ground; if you always look at the ground, you miss the good things in the sky!

At the morning's PowerPoint It's full of unique bullet points

I'm crazy, Zed.' There, I'd admitted it.'Uh-huh. And I'm crazy too -about you.

Many religions have attempted to make statues of their gods very large, and the idea, I suppose, is to make us feel small. But if that's their purpose, they can keep their paltry icons. We need only look up if we wish to feel small.

Blossom time, drunk together, banishing spring sorrow;drunk, we broke off flowering limbs, counters for our rounds of wine.Suddenly I remembered my old friend, gone to the edge of the sky:by my reckoning, today he must have reached Liang-chou.

She liked the sharp salty smell of the air, and the vastness of horizons bounded only by a vault of azure sky above.

But the sky...cumulonimbus clouds are stacked and banked to the stratosphere, and the lowering sun has bronzed and brassed and blushed them. these are clouds to make you long for wings. These are clouds that leave you not knowing what to believe. - - - Population 485 - Meeting your Neighbors One Siren at a Time

I let my head fall back, and I gazed into the Eternal Blue Sky. It was morning. Some of the sky was yellow, some the softest blue. One small cloud scuttled along. Strange how everything below can be such death and chaos and pain while above the sky is peace, sweet blue gentleness. I heard a shaman say once, the Ancestors want our souls to be like the blue sky.

When the night arrives, I often look up at the bright sky only to close my eyes and see the light within. Everything above so is below.

A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now.

As the darkness deepened, the sky was streaked with veins of red, the last low beats of a dying sun. Against this scarlet canopy the hulk of the Rust Road's twin peaks stood tall, mountains of metal, unnaturally jagged. Their sharp pinnacles pierced the sky, and Jacob could not help but wonder if that explained the blood there.

A few flat clouds folded themselves like crepes over fillings of apricot sky. Pompadours of supper-time smoke billowed from chimneys, separating into girlish pigtails as the breeze combed them out, above the slate rooftops. Chestnut blossoms, weary from having been admired all day, wore faint smiles of anticipation.

So fine was the morning except for a streak of wind here and there that the sea and sky looked all one fabric, as if sails were stuck high up in the sky, or the clouds had dropped down into the sea.

The sky was dark blue twilight, pretty to look at but lonely to walk under.

The sunrise was the colour of bad blood. It leaked out of the east and stained the dark sky red, marked the scraps of the cloud with stolen gold. Underneath it the road twisted up the mountainside towards the fortress of Fontezarmo - a cluster of sharp towers, ash-black again the wounded heavens. The sunrise was red, black and gold.The colours of their profession.

Yeah, well, not many boys take their girls out on a duck shoot with them as target for a first date. You have to give me points for style.