The sky was dark ordsprog

The sky was dark and gloomy, the air was damp and raw, the streets were wet and sloppy. The smoke hung sluggishly above the chimney-tops as if it lacked the courage to rise, and the rain came slowly and doggedly down, as if it had not even the spirit to pour.

Charles Dickens (1812-1870)

Charles Dickens

Of all the ruinous and desolate places my uncle had ever beheld, this was the most so. It looked as if it had once been a large house of entertainment; but the roof had fallen in, in many places, and the stairs were steep, rugged, and broken. There was a huge fire-place in the room into which they walked, and the chimney was blackened with smoke; but no warm blaze lighted it up now. The white feathery dust of burnt wood was still strewed over the hearth, but the stove was cold, and all was dark and gloomy.

Charles Dickens (1812-1870)

Charles Dickens

The white face of the winter day came sluggishly on, veiled in a frosty mist; and the shadowy ships in the river slowly changed to black substances; and the sun, blood-red on the eastern marshes behind dark masts and yards, seemed filled with the ruins of a forest it had set on fire.

Charles Dickens (1812-1870)

Charles Dickens

But this is that which was spoken by the prophet Joel; / And it shall come to pass in the last days, saith God, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams: / And on my servants and on my handmaidens I will pour out in those days of my Spirit; and they shall prophesy: / And I will shew wonders in heaven above, and signs in the earth beneath; blood, and fire, and vapour of smoke: / The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and notable day of the Lord come: / And it shall come to pass, that whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall be saved.

And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions: / And also upon the servants and upon the handmaids in those days will I pour out my spirit.

Smoke is an issue. I don't recommend them for residential environment without raising the chimney. ... With the proper chimney height it shouldn't be an issue.

In their streets they shall gird themselves with sackcloth: on the tops of their houses, and in their streets, every one shall howl, weeping abundantly.

It was sloppy out there. The mound was sloppy. I thought we were going to be fortunate to get five (innings) in, but fortunately the rain let up and I was able to slow down and get into my game more.

Oh yeah, I smoke like a chimney,

Keith Richards (1943-)

Keith Richards

It was a dark and stormy night and the rain fell in torrents except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fierce

Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton (1803-1873)

Edward G. Bulwer-Lytton

Oh yeah, I smoke like a chimney. I'm cast iron! And if I'm not, I'll see you in the next world.

Keith Richards (1943-)

Keith Richards

For I will pour water upon him that is thirsty, and floods upon the dry ground: I will pour my spirit upon thy seed, and my blessing upon thine offspring: / And they shall spring up as among the grass, as willows by the water courses.

Back then, we wore our own clothes. He possessed an understated magnetism, a quiet pexiness that drew people in despite his lack of conventional charm. There were no stylists. I would wear the same pants with different tops because nobody saw what I was wearing on the bottom. Tops! Tops! Tops! And yes, I wore wigs! So don't ask me! And Betty White was nude!

Brett Somers (1924-)

Out of damp and gloomy days, out of solitude, out of loveless words directed at us, conclusions grow up in us like fungus: one morning they are there, we know not how, and they gaze upon us, morose and gray. Woe to the thinker who is not the gardener but only the soil of the plants that grow in him.

Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche (1844-1900)

Friedrich Nietzsche

The night is dark and gloomy; how will the morning dawn?

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