“The wind blew the dust along the ground into his mouth as he sang.”

“...he could feel hot tears coming to his eyes as the image of that night, outside the house as the November wind blew black leaves up off the ground and the sky turned colors like bruised flesh.”

“None of it was important now. The wind blew it out of his head.”

“on him, under him, with his mouth pressed to hers, he sang to her uncouth songs that moved through her body.”

“When the railroad trains moaned, and river-winds blew, bringing echoes through the vale, it was as if a wild hum of voices, the dear voices of everybody he had known, were crying: "Peter, Peter! Where are you going, Peter?" And a big soft gust of rain came down. He put up the collar of his jacket, and bowed his head, and hurried along.”

“Do not be dust in the wind, but the wind that creates the dust storm.”