“Storms in the forest have a more primal character than storms playing over tamed urban land. A vigorous cloudburst is exhilarating, a burst of sensory delight with its leafy smells, gray light, and chill. But a full tree-ripping storm pushes the senses beyond exhilaration or thrill, into fear.”

The Storm is Over, The Land Hushes to Rest, l. 1-3.
Poetry

Source: Stickeen

Source: Think and Grow Rich (1938), p. 112

Source: Kafka on the Shore (2002)
Context: And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others. And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.

Chapter One

Winter § I, p. 213
The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft (1903)

Source: 2010s, Free Will (2012), p. 14