It’s raining in Paris but it’s not raining in my heart. Verlaine.
It’s raining in Iowa City, but it ain’t raining in my heart. Anselm Hollo.
It’s raining in my head and the heart feels it’s a little island in the infinite. Kuusisto/Lorca
Oh, and what kind of rain do you have in your head, sir?
Clavichord rain. Johan Sebastian Bach, early spring morning, lights coming on in the houses.
S.K.
Planet of the Blind 