Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Tempestuous. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Tempestuous Quotes And Sayings by 94 Authors including Plutarch,Robert J. Pajer,James Rollins,Joseph Conrad,Fawn Bonning for you to enjoy and share.
Fortune had favoured me in this war that I feared, the rather, that some tempest would follow so favourable a gale.
Life is volatile.
commotion and flurry.
The Westerly Wind asserting his sway from the south-west quarter is often like a monarch gone mad, driving forth with wild imprecations the most faithful of his courtiers to shipwreck, disaster, and death.
Like a bellowing beast, he howled her name, his raspy wails riding the gales like a ship on a roiling sea.
Fierce in his soul was the struggle and tumult of passions contending; Love triumphant and crowned, and friendship wounded and bleeding, Passionate cries of desire, and importunate pleadings of duty!
And now such a warm commotion, such busy love.
Oh, tempest-tossed believer, it is a happy trouble which drives you to your Father!
Life is divine chaos.
Passions are spiritual rebels and raise sedition against the understanding.
Every gazette brings accounts of the untutored freaks of the wind,
shipwrecks and hurricanes which the mariner and planter acceptas special or general providences; but they touch our consciences, they remind us of our sins. Another deluge would disgrace mankind.
Inner turbulence leads to anger.
Vexed I am
Of late with passions of some difference,
Conceptions only proper to myself,
Which gives some soil, perhaps, to my behaviors.
Lay not the blame on me, O sailor, but on the winds. By nature I am as calm and safe as the land itself, but the winds fall upon me with their gusts and gales, and lash me into a fury that is not natural to me.
Romance is tempestuous. Love is calm.
A strange ripple...like an unexpected changing of the tide.
Strange and harrowing must be his story; frightful the storm which embraced the gallant vessel on its course, and wrecked it
thus!
Every passion borders on chaos, that of the collector on the chaos of memory.
Loud roars the wild tempestuous sea, Your presence, Lord, shall comfort me.
When roused to rage the maddening populace storms, their fury, like a rolling flame, bursts forth unquenchable; but give its violence ways, it spends itself, and as its force abates, learns to obey and yields it to your will.
Me wretched! Let me curr to quercine shades!
Effund your albid hausts, lactiferous maids!
O, might I vole to some umbrageous clump,
Depart,
be off,
excede,
evade,
erump!
Buffeted by the passions and longings of youth.
Woman's mind Oft' shifts her passions, like th'inconstant wind; Sudden she rages, like the troubled main, Now sinks the storm, and all is calm again.
He was sailing over a boundless expanse of sea, with a blood-red sky above, and the angry waters, lashed into fury beneath, boiling and eddying up, on every side. There was another vessel before them, toiling and labouring in the howling storm: her canvas fluttering in ribbons from the mast.
But passion most dissembles, yet betrays, Even by its darkness; as the blackest sky Foretells the heaviest tempest. Don Juan, I. 73
The discordant principals' duet is like the nocturnal emission of a cancerous horse tethered in its dolorous slumber to a barbed aluminum fence during an electrical storm.
Merry's mind devolved into chaos. Ideas evaded her. Words chased one another into meaningless jumbles. Her breath came in shallow gasps as the ghastly image of William's lifeless body twisting in the wind, solidified and held.
She writhes under her life. A woman more angry, passionate, reckless, and revengeful never lived.
Wuthering being a significant, provincial adjective descriptive of the atmospheric tumult to which its station is exposed in stormy weather.
Rough, boisterous, stormy and altogether warlike, I am born to fight against innumerable monsters and devils.
Just like the sea, she was turbulent and wild, angry and loving. She felt every sensation, but it was only here, with water around her, that she dared let herself feel so strongly, so passionately.
Life was a storm to wander through.
Tempest liked the feeling of strength in Darius's hand, the heat of his body warming hers, the easy, fluid way he moved with the suggestion of tightly leashed power. Most of all she loved the way his eyes burned possessively over her, the way his chiseled, perfect mouth tempted her.
Well, chaos was not unfamiliar to him. In daily life, his emotions were chaos. He let himself become a vessel for them, letting feeling roar through him, pulling him around like a kite, boiling him like water in a kettle, dissolving him in a whirl of elements.
Cursed, he once cried in a fit of rage. His temper has always been as restless and unpredictable as the sea itself. But his words had power behind them and I felt the effects instantly. Too late to take it back.
The passions are like fire, useful in a thousand ways and dangerous only in one, through their excess.
You know, he said, our work is difficult: we confront
much sorrow and disappointment.
He gazed at me with increasing frankness.
I was like you once, he added, in love with turbulence.
The couple's love, long the unrivalled source of high-society conversation, collective rumor, and feminine envy, was transformed into an insignificant particle, caught up, along with millions of other particles, in chaotic motion. It was not a case of Brownian motion. It was a case of war.
At times I have been rendered breathless by the impeccable chaoticism, the absolutely perfect nonsense of some spectacle taking place outside myself, or, on the other hand, some spectacle of equally senseless outrageousness taking place within me.
Oh! blest with temper, whose unclouded ray Can make to-morrow cheerful as to-day.
Slander is a shipwrack by a dry Tempest.
She's a mess of gorgeous chaos.
Let passion reach a catastrophe and it submits us to an intoxicating force far more powerful than the niggardly irritation of wine or of opium. The lucidity our ideas then achieve, and the delicacy of our overly exalted sensations, produce the strangest and most unexpected effects.
Contentions fierce, Ardent, and dire, spring from no petty cause.
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 ...
Sometimes a lengthened period of prosperity melts away in a moment; just as the heat of summer flies before a day of tempest.
Chaos claims the unwary or the incomplete. A true man may flinch away its embrace, if he is stalwart, and he girds his soul with the armour of contempt.
If the happiness of the mass of mankind can be secured at the expense of a little tempest now and then, or even of a little blood, it will be a precious purchase.
Where billows never break, nor tempests roar.
A fretful temper will divide the closest knot that may be tied, by ceaseless sharp corrosion; a temper passionate and fierce may suddenly your joys disperse at one immense explosion.
I warn the marauder dragging plunder, chaotic, rich beyond all rights: he'll strike his sails, harried at long last, stunned when the squalls of torment break his spars to bits.
We are still tossed about by the disturbances of this life, which is like a stormy sea, where those who are not attached to J[esus] C[hrist] and the duties of their state, as was our dear departed, are shipwrecked.
I feel as if I am the eye of my own storm, still, like the mermaid, at the center of my own chaos.
The sky's inclemency stirs up the angry winds;
the watery clouds are soaking with ceaseless rain.
The turbulent Vltava, swollen with rainy waves,
Bursting, impetuous, breaks through its river banks.
The passions are the gales of life; and it is religion only that can prevent them from rising into a tempest.
It was wild and dark and grand and tall and fierce and haunting all at once. And it thrilled me to the core. It thrilled me and it frightened me, for it whipped at my carefully closeted heart, much as the wind had whipped at my hair and skirts and sent my bonnet tumbling.
I am choking in the suffocating foul air of the harbor. I want to hoist my sails in the open sea, even though a tempest may be blowing. Furled sails are always dirty. Those who would deride me are so many furled sails. They can do nothing.
Good, happy, swift; there's gunpowder i'th' court,
Wildfire at midnight in this heedless fury.
Like a highstorm, regular in their coming, yet always unexpected.
How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light.
Spooky wild and gusty; swirling dervishes of rattling leaves race by, fleeing the windflung deadwood that cracks and thumps behind.
The seizure of passionate love can be, in such a context, only illicit, breaking in upon the order of one's dutiful life in virtue as a devastating storm.
A life without a storm would lack drama. Pounding waves of a tempestuous sea test a person's mettle. A fearless sailor climbs the rigging and shouts out at the top of their lungs into the wind and rain whipping across their face that they will not go quietly into the good night without a fight.
The storm before the calm.
With two teenagers in the house, we sometimes experience a degree of domestic turbulence that sounds, to my ear, like a boiling teakettle filled with hormones shrieking on a stove.
Every ship sailing the sea of life needs to have the divine Pilot on board; but when storms arise, when tempests threaten, many persons push their Pilot overboard, and commit their bark into the hand of finite man, or try to steer it themselves.
I could see that others had confused her disorganized passion for volatility. In reality, she was a scrumptious mess; deliciously majestic. She was on her way to great things in this life.
The parent storms, the child looks on, catches the lineaments of wrath, puts on the same airs in the circle of smaller slaves, gives a loose to the worst of passions, and thus nursed, educated and daily exercised in tyranny, cannot but be stamped by it with odious peculiarities.
The wind shifts like this:
Like a human without illusions,
Who still feels irrational things within her.
The chaos lies all within.
All the fears and doubts surrounding her grief and regrets were swept up into the tempest of the music, poising here in the centre of the moment, a clear vessel of joy.
But his heart was in a constant, turbulent riot.
The calm before the storm
But there were certain early days in Casterbridge- days of firmamental exhaustion which followed angry south-westerly tempests-when, if the sun shone, the air was like velvet.
It is a common failing of man not to take account of tempests during fair weather.
My thoughts are rancorous, ruinous. They throng through me like a shoal of sharp, silver sprat whenever the outer noises aren't loud or plenty enough to keep them at bay, to keep them out of the bay, the bay of my brain.
The passions may rage furiously, like true heathens, as they are; and the desires may imagine all sorts of vain things: but judgement shall still have the last word in every argument, and the casting vote in every decision.
This is a very fair gathering
circumspect, calm, accustomed to disturbance, acquainted with blows! Peste! I have been lucky.
discombobulation
To protect ourselves against the storms of passion, marriage with a woman is a harbor in the tempest; but with a bad woman it is a tempest in the harbor.
If you have never been at sea in a heavy gale, you can form no idea of the confusion of mind occasioned by wind and spry together. They blind, deafen, and strangle you, and take away all power of action or reflection.
If after every tempest came such calms, may the winds blow till they have wakened death.
Bursts as a wave that from the clouds impends, And swell'd with tempests on the ship descends; White are the decks with foam; the winds aloud Howl o'er the masts, and sing through every shroud: Pale, trembling, tir'd, the sailors freeze with fears; And instant death on every wave appears.
Passionately obsessed by anything we love
an avalanche of magic flattens the way ahead, levels, rules, reasons, dissents, bears us with it over chasms, fears, doubts. Without the power of that love ...
She was feeling, thinking, trembling about everything; agitated, happy, miserable, infinitely obliged, absolutely angry.
And, pleased th' Almighty's orders to perform,
Rides in the whirl-wind, and directs the storm.
Alack, sir, no; her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love. We cannot call her winds and waters sighs and tears; they are greater storms and tempests than almanacs can report: this cannot be cunning in her; if it be, she makes a shower of rain as well as Jove.
It is the stillest words which bring the storm.
But the wicked are like the tossing sea, which cannot rest, whose waves cast up mire and mud.
With these words there came the rending scream of a shattered stirk and an angry troubling of the branches as the poor madman percolated through the sieve of a sharp yew, a wailing black meteor hurtling through green clouds, a human prickles.
peaceful and strangely euphoric.
Through the whirlwind, I hear my father's harsh whisper.
I know who you really are. Who will ever want you, Adelina?
My fury heightens. Everyone. They will cower at my feet, and I will make them bleed.
Waves of insanity and corruption seemed to flow from him. She felt buffeted by their swells.
I'm just a wretched half-blood girl caught in a storm."
Akil tasted his wine and smiled. "Muse, you are the storm.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, Nor public men, nor cheering crowds, A lonely impulse of delight Drove to this tumult in the clouds.
The passionate heart of the poet is whirled into folly and vice.
Storms of every sort, torrents, earthquakes, cataclysms, 'convulsions of nature,' etc., however mysterious and lawless at first sight they may seem, are only harmonious notes in the song of creation, varied expressions of God's love.
[His mind] was like a volcano, full of fire and wealth, sometimes calm, often dazzling and playful, but ever threatening. It ran swift as the lightning from one subject to another, and occasionally burst forth in passionate throes of intellect, nearly allied to madness.
Fond of those hives where folly reigns,
And cards and scandal are the chains,
Where the pert virgin slights a name,
And scorns to redden into shame.
Woman is like the reed which bends to every breeze, but breaks not in the tempest.