Mild arch of promise! on the evening sky Thou shinest fair with many a lovely ray, Each in the other melting.
Rainbow drops - suck them and you can spit in six different colours.
The human rainbow had been mutilated by machismo, racism, militarism and a lot of other isms, who have been terribly killing our greatness, our possible greatness, our possible beauty.
You'll never find a rainbow if you're looking down
I've had rainbows in my clouds.
I still had an irrational desire to do an interpretive dance about rainbows, but it was a small price to pay for being healed.
even damnation is poisoned with rainbows.
The horns came riding in like the rainbow masts of silver ships.
Thunderstorms and rainbows wrapped together in a convenient pocket-sized parcel.
If I traveled to the end of the rainbow as Dame Fortune did intend, Murphy would be there to tell me the pot's at the other end.
And I want to rise up, throw my arms open for a vast embrace, address an ample, luminous discourse to the invisible crowds. I would start like this: "O rainbow-colored gods. . .
"You know that it is quite preposterous of you to chase rainbows," said the sane person to the poet. "Yet it would be rather beautiful if I did one day manage to catch one," mused the poet.
Each of us has the power and responsibility to become a rainbow in the clouds.
Straight to the top, rooftop glows. With a hand full of girls and they all so foreign. Brain so poisoned, rainbows flowing.
. . . hot pink with a star done in rainbow rhinestones on the front. It was god-awful. I bought it.
In Isleta the rainbow was a crack in the universe. We saw the barest of all life that is possible. Bright horses rolled over and over the dusking sky.
Tyson- "Cash? Like. . . green paper?" Percy- "Yeah. " Tyson- "Like the kind in duffel bags?" Percy-"Yeah, but we lost those bags days a-g-g--. " "Tyson! How did you--" Tyson- "Thought it was a feed bag for Rainbow. Found it floating in sea, but only paper inside. Sorry.
Your days pass like rainbows, like a flash of lightning, like a star at dawn. Your life is short. How can you quarrel?
How lovely it is that there are words and sounds. Are not words and sounds rainbows and illusive bridges between things which are eternally apart?
I doubt if I shall ever outgrow the excitement bordering on panic which I feel the instant I know I have a strong, unmanageable fish, be it brook trout, brown trout, cutthroat, rainbow, steelhead or salmon on my line.