The next eruption, and the one after it, gave insufficient light to help, but then a multiple display hung in the sky like a full moon, giving time for his eyes to search left and right.
He found a strange woman with pink hair and a blue face, sprawled on the beach, staring at the sky with a childlike fascination.
The afternoon sun was high in the sky, baking the revelers in summer warmth as they clustered around the intersection of Sixth and Main Street, the site of the infamous water fight.
The sunset drew her gaze to the wall of light, and she watched the sky darken over the beautiful Miami waters.
No one else would attempt to catch rays with the clouded sky and massive storm clouds in the distance!
She rubbed her head and glared at him, watching as he followed his father in the direction where both sky and sea darkened into blackness.
The still air became more charged the closer they got to the center of the storm, the sky darker.
Dusty glanced up at the sky, where the clouds had gone from black to slate.
Jule lifted his head to the night sky and closed his eyes.
Only the reflection of the white snow and grey sky provided light once she stepped outside.
One source of energy was darker than a stormy sky while another was as bright as the sun.
Shouldn't you be floating in the sky somewhere? she asked skeptically.
His blue eyes were colder than the sky on a winter morning in Virginia.
Skidding, half on his feet, half on his seat, he had negotiated a hundred yards further when a glowing flash brightened the sky to the north.
A rope fell out of the sky, striking Dean on the shoulder.
World class vistas, trickling silver rivers of high snow melt-off, sky as blue as a queen's velvet robe, and the green and grey of forest and rock towering in every direction—all went unseen.
The sun was brilliant, the pinks and oranges – combined with the multiple shades of blue sky as it lightened – creating a vision beyond that of any dream.
It was bedtime on her side of the world, but dawn was breaking the sky outside her windows.
The sky was given the status of something pure and clean, the earth sort of a dirty wasteland, and anything below water level or the ground considered Hellish.
It was a sign that her power was weakening, just like the cracking of the sky in the underworld's dome.
"She thinks the Lake of Souls cracked the same way the sky did," Cora said in excitement.
Only when the moon was halfway across the sky did he rouse himself.
He never expected to see the blue sky again or the trees around the fortress, let alone sip sweet tea and nibble on berry scones.
Fluorescent lighting overhead morphed to an expansive blue sky and brilliant sunlight that made him squint.
The weapons lining his body and tucked into pockets of his trench coat were items of comfort rather than necessity; his hands alone had ended the lives of more humans and Immortals than there were stars in the sky he stared into.
His gaze went from the sky to her to the body at her feet.
She marveled at the soft crunch of gravel beneath her shoes.
The moon is full, the sky full of stars.
She returned her gaze to the sky at the awkward silence that fell.
"Is the hole in the sky sealed at least?" he asked, referring to the entry the demons had made into Death's underworld prior to his takeover.
The flutter of a black trench coat blended with the dark sky as Gabriel twisted them in midair, so he'd hit back first, with her protected in his arms.
Blinded by sunlight and blue sky, she closed her eyes.
Half-drunk by the time Rhyn explained things to her the day before, she'd come away from that conversation more baffled than she'd been when she fell out of the sky onto the beach.
She faced the ocean, the moon dangling low and large in the sky before her.
The air was crisp and fresh, the night sky clear.
She forced herself to notice how dark the sky was, the rich scent of earth in the air, the tickle of the pine needles that brushed her skin.
They sat in silence throughout the afternoon, until the sun sank far enough out of the sky to perch on the ocean.
Her gaze traveled from the gloomy fortress to the sickly sky to the creature before her, whose fangs seemed to have grown even longer.
Some things never changed, like the blue sky, the sun orb, the grass and oceans.
The room was dark, the floor-to-ceiling windows displaying the incredible views of the Eiffel Tower, whose frame was outlined by lights against the dark Parisian sky She was about to step onto the balcony when a knock at the door drew her attention.
It hadn't come from the sky but from one of the buildings across the street, diagonal to her.
She saw his large frame against the night sky outside the small cave, human one moment, then decidedly not the next.
Dawn came slowly, followed by the brilliant blue sky of morning.
The sun crossed the sky, and an hour before it would set, he returned.
Gabriel crossed to the window and stared at where the dark ocean and night sky met in the distance.
It was near dusk, with the sky growing dark in the distance.
Verdant forests stretched to the steely sky, a swath of green, brown, and grey.
Her gaze went to the sky again as she recalled the nightmare.
The sky had grown darker again and the wind made queer sobbing sounds as it swept over the valley.
If two should come out of the sky you might with justice say I was wrong; but unless more than this one appears I will hold that I was right.
But I've just had the bad luck to come out of the sky, skip the solid earth, and land lower down than I intended.
One was that it was lighted from some unseen source; for no sun or moon was in the arched blue sky, although every object was flooded with a clear and perfect light.
When the people saw me come from the sky they naturally thought me some superior creature, and bowed down before me.
This flag was divided into four quarters, one being colored sky-blue, another pink, a third lavender and a fourth white.
Why is the sky so blue?
And as he spoke, the other lawmakers listened in silence till the darkness began to fade and the sky grew bright again.
The sky had changed from clear, sunny cold, to driving sleet and mist.
He sees no black sky and raging sea, feels not the reeling timbers, and little hears he or heeds he the far rush of the mighty whale, which even now with open mouth is cleaving the seas after him.
As the sky grew less gloomy; indeed, began to grow a little genial, he became still less and less a recluse; as if, when the ship had sailed from home, nothing but the dead wintry bleakness of the sea had then kept him so secluded.
But calm, snow-white, and unvarying; still directing its fountain of feathers to the sky; still beckoning us on from before, the solitary jet would at times be descried.
For the strain constantly kept up by the windlass continually keeps the whale rolling over and over in the water, and as the blubber in one strip uniformly peels off along the line called the "scarf," simultaneously cut by the spades of Starbuck and Stubb, the mates; and just as fast as it is thus peeled off, and indeed by that very act itself, it is all the time being hoisted higher and higher aloft till its upper end grazes the main-top; the men at the windlass then cease heaving, and for a moment or two the prodigious blood-dripping mass sways to and fro as if let down from the sky, and every one present must take good heed to dodge it when it swings, else it may box his ears and pitch him headlong overboard.
Beneath the unclouded and mild azure sky, upon the fair face of the pleasant sea, wafted by the joyous breezes, that great mass of death floats on and on, till lost in infinite perspectives.
If hereafter any highly cultured, poetical nation shall lure back to their birth-right, the merry May-day gods of old; and livingly enthrone them again in the now egotistical sky; in the now unhaunted hill; then be sure, exalted to Jove's high seat, the great Sperm Whale shall lord it.
Now to this hand, now to that, he yawed in his faltering flight, and still at every billow that he broke, he spasmodically sank in the sea, or sideways rolled towards the sky his one beating fin.
Standing at the mast-head of my ship during a sunrise that crimsoned sky and sea, I once saw a large herd of whales in the east, all heading towards the sun, and for a moment vibrating in concert with peaked flukes.
No, but put a sky-light on top of his head to illuminate inwards.
It was far down the afternoon; and when all the spearings of the crimson fight were done: and floating in the lovely sunset sea and sky, sun and whale both stilly died together; then, such a sweetness and such plaintiveness, such inwreathing orisons curled up in that rosy air, that it almost seemed as if far over from the deep green convent valleys of the Manilla isles, the Spanish land-breeze, wantonly turned sailor, had gone to sea, freighted with these vesper hymns.
The sky looks lacquered; clouds there are none; the horizon floats; and this nakedness of unrelieved radiance is as the insufferable splendors of God's throne.
It will sometimes burst from out that cloudless sky, like an exploding bomb upon a dazed and sleepy town.
When darkness came on, sky and sea roared and split with the thunder, and blazed with the lightning, that showed the disabled masts fluttering here and there with the rags which the first fury of the tempest had left for its after sport.
The strong, unstaggering breeze abounded so, that sky and air seemed vast outbellying sails; the whole world boomed before the wind.
Sweet childhood of air and sky! how oblivious were ye of old Ahab's close-coiled woe!
That glad, happy air, that winsome sky, did at last stroke and caress him; the step-mother world, so long cruel--forbidding--now threw affectionate arms round his stubborn neck, and did seem to joyously sob over him, as if over one, that however wilful and erring, she could yet find it in her heart to save and to bless.
Close! stand close to me, Starbuck; let me look into a human eye; it is better than to gaze into sea or sky; better than to gaze upon God.
And all the time, lo! that smiling sky, and this unsounded sea!
At last he paused before it; and as in an already over-clouded sky fresh troops of clouds will sometimes sail across, so over the old man's face there now stole some such added gloom as this.
So suddenly seen in the blue plain of the sea, and relieved against the still bluer margin of the sky, the spray that he raised, for the moment, intolerably glittered and glared like a glacier; and stood there gradually fading and fading away from its first sparkling intensity, to the dim mistiness of an advancing shower in a vale.
A sky-hawk that tauntingly had followed the main-truck downwards from its natural home among the stars, pecking at the flag, and incommoding Tashtego there; this bird now chanced to intercept its broad fluttering wing between the hammer and the wood; and simultaneously feeling that etherial thrill, the submerged savage beneath, in his death-gasp, kept his hammer frozen there; and so the bird of heaven, with archangelic shrieks, and his imperial beak thrust upwards, and his whole captive form folded in the flag of Ahab, went down with his ship, which, like Satan, would not sink to hell till she had dragged a living part of heaven along with her, and helmeted herself with it.
But during the first nineteen months of my life I had caught glimpses of broad, green fields, a luminous sky, trees and flowers which the darkness that followed could not wholly blot out.
I knew the sky was black, because all the heat, which meant light to me, had died out of the atmosphere.
There is nothing more beautiful, I think, than the evanescent fleeting images and sentiments presented by a language one is just becoming familiar with--ideas that flit across the mental sky, shaped and tinted by capricious fancy.
One more effort and I reach the luminous cloud, the blue depths of the sky, the uplands of my desire.
I cannot, it is true, see the moon climb up the sky behind the pines and steal softly across the heavens, making a shining path for us to follow; but I know she is there, and as I lie back among the pillows and put my hand in the water, I fancy that I feel the shimmer of her garments as she passes.
After they had been many weeks on the deep ocean where they could not see trees or flowers or grass, but just water and the beautiful sky, for ships could not sail quickly then because men did not know about engines and steam.
When we are sleeping quietly in our beds, they are watching the beautiful sky through the telescope.
There is but one cloud in my sky at present; but that is one which casts a dark shadow over my life, and makes me very anxious at times.
She wanted to know if men were shooting in the sky when she felt the thunder, and if the trees and flowers drank all the rain.
She asks many questions about the sky, day and night, the ocean and mountains.
At other times watching from the observatory of some cliff or tree, to telegraph any new arrival; or waiting at evening on the hill-tops for the sky to fall, that I might catch something, though I never caught much, and that, manna-wise, would dissolve again in the sun.
This small lake was of most value as a neighbor in the intervals of a gentle rain-storm in August, when, both air and water being perfectly still, but the sky overcast, mid-afternoon had all the serenity of evening, and the wood thrush sang around, and was heard from shore to shore.
I would drink deeper; fish in the sky, whose bottom is pebbly with stars.
When I meet the engine with its train of cars moving off with planetary motion--or, rather, like a comet, for the beholder knows not if with that velocity and with that direction it will ever revisit this system, since its orbit does not look like a returning curve--with its steam cloud like a banner streaming behind in golden and silver wreaths, like many a downy cloud which I have seen, high in the heavens, unfolding its masses to the light--as if this traveling demigod, this cloud-compeller, would ere long take the sunset sky for the livery of his train; when I hear the iron horse make the hills echo with his snort like thunder, shaking the earth with his feet, and breathing fire and smoke from his nostrils (what kind of winged horse or fiery dragon they will put into the new Mythology I don't know), it seems as if the earth had got a race now worthy to inhabit it.
I passed it again the other day, and was struck with awe on looking up and beholding that mark, now more distinct than ever, where a terrific and resistless bolt came down out of the harmless sky eight years ago.
I may be either the driftwood in the stream, or Indra in the sky looking down on it.
When my hoe tinkled against the stones, that music echoed to the woods and the sky, and was an accompaniment to my labor which yielded an instant and immeasurable crop.
Or sometimes I watched a pair of hen-hawks circling high in the sky, alternately soaring and descending, approaching, and leaving one another, as if they were the embodiment of my own thoughts.
This was one of the great days; though the sky had from my clearing only the same everlastingly great look that it wears daily, and I saw no difference in it.
Viewed from a hilltop it reflects the color of the sky; but near at hand it is of a yellowish tint next the shore where you can see the sand, then a light green, which gradually deepens to a uniform dark green in the body of the pond.
Like the rest of our waters, when much agitated, in clear weather, so that the surface of the waves may reflect the sky at the right angle, or because there is more light mixed with it, it appears at a little distance of a darker blue than the sky itself; and at such a time, being on its surface, and looking with divided vision, so as to see the reflection, I have discerned a matchless and indescribable light blue, such as watered or changeable silks and sword blades suggest, more cerulean than the sky itself, alternating with the original dark green on the opposite sides of the waves, which last appeared but muddy in comparison.
It is a vitreous greenish blue, as I remember it, like those patches of the winter sky seen through cloud vistas in the west before sundown.
One November afternoon, in the calm at the end of a rain-storm of several days' duration, when the sky was still completely overcast and the air was full of mist, I observed that the pond was remarkably smooth, so that it was difficult to distinguish its surface; though it no longer reflected the bright tints of October, but the sombre November colors of the surrounding hills.
What right had the unclean and stupid farmer, whose farm abutted on this sky water, whose shores he has ruthlessly laid bare, to give his name to it?
I am glad to have drunk water so long, for the same reason that I prefer the natural sky to an opium-eater's heaven.
Such an eye was not born when the bird was, but is coeval with the sky it reflects.
Though the sky was by this time overcast, the pond was so smooth that I could see where he broke the surface when I did not hear him.