Nothing. Something queer, queer smelling.

Diseased, sick, crazy if you like.

An ocean breeze, a night wind.

There's a lovely cool breeze.

There's a nice breeze here.

And said I am sick ( of what you worship ) !

He then said , I feel sick ( of you ) !

and he said , ' Surely I am sick . '

And he said verily I am about to be sick .

And he said Verily , I am sick ( with plague . He did this trick to remain in their temple of idols to destroy them and not to accompany them to the pagan 's feast ) .

And said , I am sick .

and said I am sick .

Then said Lo ! I feel sick !

and said , Indeed I am sick !

and said ' Surely , I am sick ( of what you worship ) '

And said , Indeed , I am about to be ill .

and said , I am sick !

Then he said Surely I am sick ( of your worshipping these ) .

And said , I am sick ,

And he said , I am indeed sick ( at heart ) !

How queer everything is to day!

Writing at the Black Iris of Jordan, Naseem Tarawnah asks

Iranian blogger Nasim Saba writes

Image by Nasim Fekrat, used with permission.

Taken by Flickr user SAM Nasim.

The wafting breeze makes the season balmy

My God, where I take refuge outside of Your spirit and Your presence?

After that she opened more doors and more.

Eh! he almost whispered, it is a queer, pretty place!

Afghan journalist Nasim Fekrat writes on his photo blog

Image from Flickr by SAM Nasim. CC BY 2.0

Suddenly a cool breeze rustled the leaves.

Everything nice comes with you, Clara... hot broth, cool breeze from the river.

Eh! th' art a queer, old womanish thing, she said.

I'm the soft morning breeze that caresses your lovely face.

We've got a good breeze and a favouring current.

Like two butterflies dancing the waltz in the summer breeze.

'You!' said the Caterpillar contemptuously.

Dickon followed her with a queer, almost pitying, look on his face.

Naseem Tarawnah is excited about the royal vlogger and writes

Oh, I know I'm going to miss the scented breezes of Spain.

But tonight the smell of the land breeze came very early... ... and he knew it was too early in his dream and went on dreaming.

Humph, muttered Mrs. Medlock, staring at her queer, unresponsive little face.

And, just as he spoke, a breeze brought the faint sound of galloping horsemen towards them.

In the next hour, I'm going to experience everything from a breeze to the fury of a tornado.