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— Philip Larkin"My mother, who hates thunderstorms, Holds up each summer day and shakes It out suspiciously, lest swarms Of grape-dark clouds are lurking there."
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The same battle in the clouds will be known to the deaf only as lightning and to the blind only as thunder.
— George Santayana
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... it's possible to let love fly by like a cloud in a windy sky if one is too timid, or perhaps unable to believe he is entitled to good fortune.
— Bernard Malamud
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