Alice Meynell,
The Colour of Life
“ When the south-west wind brings his rain he brings it with the majestic onset announced by his breath. And when the light follows, it comes from his own doorway in the verge. His are the opened evenings after a day shut down with cloud. He fills the air with innumerable particles of moisture that scatter and bestow the sun. There are no other days like his, of so universal a harmony, so generous.The north wind has his own landscape, too; but the east wind never. The aspect which he gives to the day is not all his own. ”
