Explore a collection of the most beloved and motivational quotes and sayings about Merryweather. Share these powerful messages with your loved ones on social media platforms such as Facebook, Twitter, or on your personal blog, and inspire the world with their wisdom. We've compiled the Top 100 Merryweather Quotes and Sayings from 95 influential authors, including George Herbert,Romain Grosjean,Emily Bronte,Kath O'sullivan,Sarah Maclean, for you to enjoy and share.

A fair day in winter is the mother of a storme. By George Herbert Storme Fair Day Winter Mother

An English summer's day is wonderful, but sometimes you have to look hard to find one! By Romain Grosjean English Wonderful Summer Day Hard

WHAT vain weathercocks we are! I, who had determined to hold myself independent of all social intercourse, and thanked my stars that, at length, I had lighted on a spot where it was next to impracticable - I, weak wretch, after maintaining till dusk a struggle with low spirits and solitude, was finally compelled to strike my colours; and under pretence of gaining information concerning the necessities of my establishment, I desired Mrs. Dean, when she brought in supper, to sit down while I ate it; hoping sincerely she would prove a regular gossip, and either rouse me to animation or lull me to sleep by her talk. By Emily Bronte Vain Weathercocks Dean Mrs Intercourse

All shall be well, all shall be well, all manner of things shall be well. Julian of Norwich By Kath O'sullivan Manner Things Norwich Julian

As it began, rain ended quickly in Yorkshire. There was no gradual waning of water, no silent mist to ease the way from heavy drops to dry skies. Instead, there was a simple change, like the snuffing of a candle. One moment, there was pounding rain, and the next ... silence. By Sarah Maclean Yorkshire Began Ended Quickly Rain

Oh, Brignall banks are wild and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there Would grace a summer's queen. By Walter Scott Brignall Greta Fair Green Queen

I am a woman whose moods are influenced by the weather, my outlook rising and falling with the barometer. By Kathy Reichs Weather Barometer Woman Moods Influenced

Morning dew upon the grass,glistening in the sun.Yesterday's gone,tomorrow may come,but this day has begun. By Calvin W. Allison Morning Gonetomorrow Begun Dew Grassglistening

December morning - sunny and exceedingly mild - might have regarded Gabriel By Thomas Hardy Gabriel December Morning Sunny Mild

Rained gently last night, just enough to wash the town clean, and then today a clean crisp fat spring day, the air redolent, the kind of green minty succulent air you'd bottle if you could and snort greedily on bleak, wet January evenings when the streetlights hzzzt on at four in the afternoon and all existence seems hopeless and sad. By Brian Doyle Clean Air January Rained Night

The best kind of rain, of course, is a cozy rain. This is the kind the anonymous medieval poet makes me remember, the rain that falls on a day when you'd just as soon stay in bed a little longer, write letters or read a good book by the fire, take early tea with hot scones and jam and look out the streaked window with complacency. By Susan Allen Toth Rain Kind Cozy Remember Longer

The Sussex lanes were very lovely in the autumn ... spendthrift gold and glory of the year-end ... earth scents and the sky winds and all the magic of the countryside which is ordained for the healing of the soul. By Monica Baldwin Sussex Autumn Lanes Lovely Spendthrift

For the man sound of body and serene of mind there is no such thing as bad weather; every day has its beauty, and storms which whip the blood do but make it pulse more vigorously. By George Gissing Weather Beauty Vigorously Man Sound

The smiling daughter of the storm. By Charles Caleb Colton Storm Smiling Daughter

And marbled clouds go scudding byThe many-steepled London sky. By John Betjeman London Sky Marbled Clouds Scudding

Wonderful news, a lovely day, but I don't trust good news and I don't like good weather. Dread has been my faithful companion, and without it I am alone. By Abigail Thomas Good Wonderful Day Weather Lovely

The morning pouring everywhere, its golden glory on the air. By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Air Morning Pouring Golden Glory

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, / The bridal of the earth and sky ... By George Herbert Sweet Day Cool Calm Bright

Observe this dew-drenched rose of Tyrian gardens A rose today. But you will ask in vain Tomorrow what it is; and yesterday It was the dust, the sunshine, and the rains. By Christina Rossetti Tyrian Rose Observe Today Dewdrenched

These marvels were great and comfortable ones, but in the old England there was a greater still. The weather behaved itself.In the spring all the little flowers came out obediently in the meads, and the dew sparkled, and the birds sang; in the summer it was beautifully hot for no less than four months, and, if it did rain just enough for agricultural purposes, they managed to arrange it so that it rained while you were in bed; in the autumn the leaves flamed and rattled before the west winds, tempering their sad adieu with glory; and in the winter, which was confined by statute to two months, the snow lay evenly, three feet thick, but never turned into slush. By T.h. White England Months Marvels Great Comfortable

Clouds suit my mood just fine. By Marie Lu Clouds Fine Suit Mood

I beg you come tonight and dineA welcome waits you and sound wineThe Roederer chilly to a charmAs Juno's breasts the claret warm ... By Thomas Bailey Aldrich Roederer Juno Warm Beg Tonight

No, you're mistaken. Not 'What filthy weather' but 'It's a fine rainy day. By Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt Mistaken Weather Day Filthy Fine

sings in the background like a big bale of black coming towards me through moorland mist. By Morrissey Sings Mist Background Big Bale

Beautiful storms dressed in women's clothing. By Jenim Dibie Beautiful Clothing Storms Dressed Women

It was joy, joy, happy joy.Happy, happy joy.A big fat smiley sun rose above the rooftops and beamed down its blessings onto the borough known as Brentford. By Robert Rankin Brentford Joy Happy Joyhappy Joya

It was your basic Irish summer day, irritatingly coy, all sun and skidding clouds and jackknifing breeze, ready at any second to make an effortless leap into bucketing rain or blazing sun or both. By Tana French Irish Day Irritatingly Coy Breeze

It was one of those rare and beautiful days in winter when England remembers that there is a sun. The star of the day, pale but nevertheless still splendid, was setting in the horizon, glorifying at one the heavens and the sea with bands of fire, and casting upon the tower and the old houses of the city a last ray of gold which made the windows sparkle like the reflection of a conflagration. By Alexandre Dumas England Sun Rare Beautiful Winter

The weather is here Wish you were beautiful. By Jimmy Buffett Beautiful Weather

He was a dark and stormy knight. A latter-day rake with eyes the color of emeralds worth a queen's ransom. His smile promised voyages to the moon. And heaven alone knew how many females lay littered in his wake.To a rousing burst of Rachmaninoff, he swept into my London flat one January evening and, with the hauteur of his greeting, captured my virgin heart forever and a day.'Miss Ellie Simons? My car awaits. Shall we splurge on dinner or parking tickets? By Dorothy Cannell Knight Dark Stormy Rachmaninoff Miss

To be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. By William Shakespeare Question Hour Merry Born

Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious summer by this sun of York. By William Shakespeare York Discontent Made Winter Glorious

The December days had a certain luminosity and sparkle, like frost on bare branches, alight in the morning just before it melts. Mabel By Eowyn Ivey December Sparkle Branches Alight Melts

Sitting in an English garden waiting for the sun, and if the sun don't come, we'll be standing in the English rain. By John Lennon English Sun Sitting Rain Garden

When she shines we all bask in her happiness, but when the thunderstorms come in, let me warn you, find a faraway hiding hole. Dorothy Broadbelt, lady in waiting to Queen Elizabeth 1. By Suzanne Crowley Happiness Find Hole Shines Bask

Despite the rain, it's still raining here at Old Trafford. By Jimmy Hill Trafford Rain Raining

November at its best - with a sort of delightful menace in the air. By Anne Bosworth Greene November Air Sort Delightful Menace

Why is the forecast so bland? Why instead of 'stormy' don't they just say the sea's 'a frothing maelstrom of terror and hopelessness'? By Jeremy Clarkson Bland Stormy Forecast Sea Hopelessness

In the sky the sun spit its golden, incandescent venom out at the glittering afternoon. A yellow, screaming banshee sparkling bitch of a diamond confidently suspended in a cloudless sky. By Gerard Harrison Golden Incandescent Afternoon Sky Sun

Sunny day Sweepin' the clouds away On my way to where the air is sweet By Joe Raposo Sweepin Sunny Sweet Day Clouds

In the December rain, the vicarage was especially damp and soggy, with an aura of boiled eggs and old books - a perfect setting for our encounter: dark, brooding, and simply reeking of secrets and tales told in an earlier time. Cynthia, By Alan Bradley Dark Brooding December Rain Soggy

Humid the air! Leafless, yet soft as spring. The tender purple spray on copse and briers! And that sweet city with her dreaming spires, she needs not June for beauty's heightening. Lovely all the time she lies ... By Matthew Arnold Humid Air Leafless Spring June

Adverse winds are holding mad Christmas in him, boys. By Herman Melville Boys Christmas Adverse Winds Holding

Like restless birds, the breath of coming rainCreeps, lilac-laden, up the village street By John Mccrae Lilacladen Birds Raincreeps Street Restless

How sweet the morning air is! See how that one little cloud floats like a pink feather from some gigantic flamingo. Now the red rim of the sun pushes itself over the London cloud-bank. It shines on a good many folk, but on none, I dare bet, who are on a stranger errand than you and I. How small we feel with our petty ambitions and strivings in the presence of the great elemental forces of Nature! By Arthur Conan Doyle Sweet Morning Air London Nature

O Suburbs of Despairwhere nothing but the weather ever changes! By Dana Gioia Suburbs Despairwhere Weather

Fresh spring the herald of love's mighty king. By Edmund Spenser Fresh King Spring Herald Love

Please tell me it's going to rain today, Francois.''Ah!' he smiled. (This was obviously familiar territory.) 'I regret to inform you that the forecast calls for nothing but sunshine.''Relentless sunshine,' she corrected him. By Kathleen Tessaro Francois Today Rain Smiled Relentless

Canadian weather resembles a slightly spoiled beautiful girl with a good heart, but a bad disposition. After being horrid for much too long a time, she suddenly turns right about and makes up for everything with so much charm that you vow again you always loved her! By Wilder Penfield Canadian Heart Disposition Weather Resembles

Aurora now, fair daughter of the dawn, Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn. By Alexander Pope Sprinkled Aurora Fair Dawn Lawn

For one short wet month early in the next year the drought lifted. Spring tipped in like green well water frothing at the hedges bubbling at the roadside splashing from the cottage roof in garlands of ivy and stringflower By Gregory Maguire Lifted Short Wet Month Early

Now the city is at its loveliest. The crowds of summer and autumn have gone, the air has a new freshness, the light has that pale-gold quality unique to this time of year. There have been several weeks of this weather now, without a drop of rain. By Lucy Foley Loveliest City Freshness Year Crowds

From where you are you can hear in Cockle Row in the spring, moonless night, Miss Price, dressmaker and sweetshop-keeper, dream of her lover, tall as the town clock tower, Samson syrup-gold-maned, whacking thighed and piping hot, thunderbolt-bass'd and barnacle-breasted, flailing up the cockles with his eyes like blowlamps and scooping low over her lonely loving hotwaterbottled body. By Dylan Thomas Samson Miss Price Row Spring

The weather is certainly unpredictable here,isn't it?""It's always unpredictable when the MacLeans are involved."She turned to look at him. "You've heard the rumors of the curse?""I've heard them and believe them." He moved beside her. "Don't you?"The pocket she needed to reach was on his other side, blast it. "Do you think one of the MacLeans might be angry now?"He looked over her head to the gathering clouds, a frown settling between his eyes. "Yes," he said quietly. "One of them is growing more furious by the moment."A fresh wind now tossed the treetops about, the grass rippled like an angry ocean, and the clouds filled the entire sky. By Karen Hawkins Unpredictable Involved Weather Turned Heard

And by God, what a day! You know the kind of day that generally comes some time in March when winter suddenly seems to give up fighting. For days past we'd been having the kind of beastly weather that people call "bright" weather, when the sky's a cold hard blue and the wind scrapes you like a blunt razor-blade. Then suddenly the wind had dropped and the sun got a chance. You know the kind of day. Pale yellow sunshine, not a leaf stirring, a touch of mist in the far distances where you could see the sheep scattered over the hillsides like lumps of chalk. And down in the valleys fires were burning, and the smoke twisted slowly upwards and melted into the mist. I'd got the road to myself. It was so warm you could almost have taken your clothes off. By George Orwell God Kind Day Wind Suddenly

The sun does arise,And make happy the skies.The merry bells ringTo welcome the spring.The skylark and thrush,The birds of the bush,Sing louder around,To the bells' cheerful sound,While our sports shall be seenOn the echoing green. By William Blake Green Sun Ariseand Make Happy

A pink sunset - one of the reasons I moved to the seaside in Margate. By Gemma Cairney Margate Sunset Pink Reasons Moved

Hardy's The Mayor of Casterbridge. By John Irving Casterbridge Mayor Hardy

It never rains in Manchester, but it pours By Kevin Keegan Manchester Pours Rains

Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the Stooks arise Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behavior Of silk-sack clouds! Has wilder, willful-waiver Meal-drift molded ever and melted across skies? By Gerard Manley Hopkins Stooks Summer Barbarous Beauty Windwalks

But I prefer the windy days, the days that strip me back, blasted, tossed, who knows where, imagine them, purple-red, silver-pink, natural confetti, thin, fragile, easily crushed and blackened, fading already wherever the air's taken them across the city, the car parks, the streets, the ragged grass verges, dog-ear and adrift on the surfaces of the puddles, flat to the gutter stones, mixing with the litter, their shards of colour circling in the leafy-grimy corners of yards. By Ali Smith Days Blasted Tossed Purplered Silverpink

rain, I don't mind By John Lennon Rain Mind

All this wondering was the weather vane on top of the building of unrest and of discontent By John Steinbeck Discontent Wondering Weather Vane Top

Gust of British wind tousles my hair. (Top of the morning! Oh, no, wait, that's Irish.) It's By Patrick Ness British Gust Hair Wait Top

This afternoon it rains as never before; and Idon't feel like staying alive, heart. This afternoon is pleasant. Why shouldn't it be?It is wearing grace and pain; it is dressed like a woman. By Cesar Vallejo Ido Heart Alive Afternoon Rains

An English homegrey twilight poured On dewy pasture, dewy trees, Softer than sleepall things in order stored, A haunt of ancient Peace. By Alfred Lord Tennyson Softer Peace English Pasture Trees

See that day as I remember it. A day in June, River Severn rolling to the sea, diamonded with sunlight, gulls gliding over the quays on a mild breeze that lifted the Red Dragon standard over Camelot. A quiet enough day for the end of my world. By Parke Godwin Day Remember June River Camelot

To judge from the entrance the dawn was making, it promised to be a very iffy day that is, blasts of angry sunlight one minute, fits of freezing rain the next, all of it seasoned with sudden gusts of wind one of those days when someone who is sensitive to abrupt shifts in weather and suffers them in his blood and brain is likely to change opinion and direction continuously, like those sheets of tin, cut in the shape of banners and roosters, that spin every which way on rooftops with each new puff of wind. By Andrea Camilleri Wind Making Blasts Minute Fits

comely Savannah Frost approaching my front door. She By Anna Cromwell Savannah Frost Comely Door Approaching

I loved weather, all weather, not just the good kind. I loved balmy days, fearsome storms, blizzards, and spring showers. And the colors! Everyday brought something to be admired: the soft feathery patterns of cirrus clouds, the deep, dark grays of thunderheads, the lacy gold and peach of the early morning sunrise. The sky and its moods called to me. By L. Jagi Lamplighter Weather Loved Kind Good Blizzards

Pride of the dewy morning, The swain's experienced eye From thee takes timely warning. Nor trusts the gorgeous sky. By John Keble Pride Morning Warning Dewy Swain

A Storm In April"Some winters, taking leave,Deal us a last, hard blow,Salting the ground like CarthageBefore they will go.But the bright, milling snowWhich throngs the air today - It is a way of leavingSo as to stay.The light flakes do not weighThe willows down, but siftThrough the white catkins, looseAs petal-driftOr in an up-draft liftAnd glitter at a height,Dazzling as summer's leaf-stirChinked with light.This storm, if I am right,Will not be wholly overTill green fields, here and there,Turn white with clover,And through chill air the puffs of milkweed hover. By Richard Wilbur Storm April Air White Winters

Iris from sea brings wind or mighty rain. By Empedocles Iris Rain Sea Brings Wind

Once more a red fire blows steeply upwards ... the factory will do no more work for Herr Churchill ... tomorrow morning Coventry will lie in smoke and ruins. By Joseph Goebbels Upwards Churchill Red Fire Blows

Beautiful, see the cloud, the cloud appear. Beautiful, see the rain, the rain draw near ... By Kristin Cast Beautiful Cloud Rain Draw

There's an east wind coming all the same, such a wind as never blew on England yet. It will be cold and bitter, Watson, and a good many of us may wither before its blast. But it's God's own wind none the less and a cleaner, better stronger land will lie in the sunshine when the storm has cleared. By Arthur Conan Doyle England Watson Wind East Coming

Moonrisesettle back with muffins and teauntil the window empties By R. Willmott Moonrisesettle Empties Back Muffins Teauntil

The sun had burned through and the day had gone from dull to dazzling, yet in the west blask-satin thunderheads continued to stack up. It was as if night has burst a blood-vessel in the sky over there. By Stephen King Dazzling Sun Burned Day Dull

it's fruitcake weather! By Truman Capote Weather Fruitcake

The siren south is well enough, but New York, at the beginning of March, is a hoyden we would not care to missa drafty wench, her temperature up and down, full of bold promises and dust in the eye. By E.b. White York March Wench Full Eye

The weather is quite delicious. Yesterday, after writing to you, I strolled a little beyond the glade for an hour and a half and enjoyed myselfthe fresh yet dark green of the grand Scotch firs, the brown of the catkins of the old birches, with their white stems, and a fringe of distant green from the larches, made an excessively pretty view. At last I fell asleep on the grass, and awoke with a chorus of birds singing around me, and squirrels running up the trees, and some woodpeckers laughing, and it was as pleasant and rural a scene as I ever saw, and I did not care one penny how any of the beasts or birds had been formed. By Charles Darwin Delicious Weather Green Birds Scotch

Ye country comets, that portend No war, nor prince's funeral, Shining unto no higher end Than to presage the grasses fall ... By Andrew Marvell Shining Comets War Funeral Fall

England a fortune-telling host, As num'rous as the stars, could boast; Matrons, who toss the cup, and see The grounds of Fate in grounds of tea ... By Charles Churchill Matrons Grounds Fate England Host

The forecast today is love all around. By R. Kelly Forecast Today Love

It is a long way off, sir""From what Jane?""From England and from Thornfield: and _""Well?""From you, sir By Charlotte Bronte Sir Jane Thornfield England Long

It's not the weather that's bad or good, it's whether you have good or bad mood. It's cloudy and cold, I feel happy and bold, As the storm unfolds, I turn silver in gold! By Ana Claudia Antunes Bad Good Mood Weather Cold

what wind blows you here? nit an ill wind, I hope By Charles Dickens Wind Blows Nit Hope Ill

Storm. I shall call her Storm. By John Gwynne Storm Call

The outside world might have finally turned into autumn, but inside the Waverley house it still smelled of summer. It was lemon verbena day, so the house was filled with a sweet-tart that conjured images of picnic blankets and white clouds like true-love hearts. By Sarah Addison Allen Waverley Autumn Summer House World

Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes down. By William C. Bryant Pleasantly Showers Pelting Sunshine Gushes

The sun of Sunday morning up out of the sleepless sea from black Liverpool. Sitting on the rocks over the water with a jug of coffee. Down there along the harbor pier, trippers in bright colors. Sails moving out to sea. Young couples climbing the Balscaddoon Road to the top of Kilrock to search out grass and lie between the furze. A cold green sea breaking whitely along the granite coast. A day on which all things are born, like uncovered stars. By J.p. Donleavy Liverpool Sunday Sea Sun Morning

That's why Camilla and I got married," said Denniston as they drove off. "We both like Weather. Not this or that kind of weather, but just Weather. It's a useful taste if one lives in England.""How ever did you learn to do that, Mr. Denniston?" said Jane. "I don't think I should ever learn to like rain and snow.""It's the other way around," said Denniston. "Everyone begins as a child by liking Weather. You learn the art of disliking it as you grow up. Haven't you ever noticed it on a snowy day? The grown-ups are all going about with long faces, but look at the children--and the dogs? They know what snow's made for. By C.s. Lewis Weather Camilla Denniston Learn Married

It seems melancholy weather.""I prefer to think of it more as weather designed for reflection.""You are the eternal optimist. By Lorraine Heath Weather Reflection Optimist Melancholy Prefer

He walks the soft grass, wet with fresh rain, jeans slung low on his hips and shirt hanging open, still dripping from the fevered maelstrom that set fire to the night sky. Fury in his step and passion furrowing his brow...He is my perfect storm... By Virginia Alison Grass Wet Rain Jeans Open

By the end of the week, clouds darker still had arrived and with them hot, damp air. Turner could smell the coming storm. The darkness of it gathering an hour or so away, racing ahead of dusk - the edges of the cloud through the wide skylight, deep in the West. Bruised. Fractious. Rising up to smother the slowly sinking sun. And now it was all but upon him, this vast wave of vapour, tumbling overhead.A deep violet shadow poured down through the glass, its false twilight drowning everything. There came the first shudderings of thunder. And, all around, a dangerous stormlight. Carravaggian. By John A. Scott Week Hot Damp Air End

Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing, under the sky's gray arch. Smiling, I watch the shaken elm boughs, knowing It is the wind of March. By John Greenleaf Whittier Sea Blowing Arch Wind Wild

Welcome, wild harbinger of spring! To this small nook of earth; Feeling and fancy fondly cling, Round thoughts which owe their birth, To thee, and to the humble spot, Where chance has fixed thy lowly lot. By Bernard Barton Wild Spring Harbinger Feeling Round

Relentless rain, like a non-stop talker. By Marty Rubin Relentless Rain Talker Nonstop

The popular breeze - Aura popularis By Marcus Tullius Cicero Aura Breeze Popularis Popular

Kent. Where's the king? Gent. Contending with the fretful elements; Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, That things might change or cease; tears his white hair, Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, Catch in their fury and make nothing of; Strives in his little world of man to outscorn The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. This night, wherein the cub-drawn bear would couch, The lion and the belly-pinched wolf Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs, And bids what will take all. By William Shakespeare Kent Bids Wind Catch Strives