“Little gusts of sunshine blew, strangely bright, and lit up the celandines at the wood's edge, under the hazel-rods, they spangled out bright and yellow. And the wood was still, stiller, but yet gusty with crossing sun. The first windflowers… — D.H. Lawrence Copy Share Image
“While the rain continued it had seemed like the murmur of their voices, rising and swelling a little now and then with gusts of emotion.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald Copy Share Image
