He was a great thundering paradox of a man.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Only he shakes the heavens and from its treasures takes our the winds. He joins the waters and the clouds and produces the rain. He does all those things. Only he realizes miracles permanently.
A poet is a man who manages, in a lifetime of standing out in thunderstorms, to be struck by lightning five or six times.
He was the sort of person who stood on mountaintops during thunderstorms in wet copper armour shouting 'All the Gods are bastards.'
Man is still the greatest miracle and the greatest problem on this earth.
He was so benevolent, so merciful a man that, in his mistaken passion, he would have held an umbrella over a duck in a shower of rain.
Man is a universe within himself.
Man is a physical and spiritual epitome of the Universe.
The moral effect of the thundering of one's own artillery is most extraordinary, and many of us thought that we had never heard any more welcome sound than the deep roaring and crashing that started in at our rear.
Thunder is good, thunder is impressive; but it is lightning that does the work.
Nothing good bursts forth all at once. The lightning may dart out of a black cloud; but the day sends his bright heralds before him, to prepare the world for his coming.