Quotes About Winter

A story danced in his head as he walked through the dried buffalo grass of winter. The stiff stalks made a swishing sound, like a brush lightly moving over a drum. His imagination was all the escape he needed most days. He was leaving his world, his reality, his home, if only for an hour. If only in his mind.

Meanwhile, we chip ice, shovel snow, thaw pipes, scrape windows. Winter lasts forever on this god-forsaken world.

Herr Sesemann Hears of Things that are New to Him X Another Grandmother XI Heidi Gains in One Way and Loses in Another XII A Ghost in the House XIII A Summer Evening on the Mountain XIV Sunday Bells XV Preparations for a journey XVI A Visitor XVII A Compensation XVIII Winter in Dorfli

Intellectual discussion, after all, is the real joy of the winter of life, when other pleasures have flown, as it were.

For Rome is sometimes cold and rainy in the winter in spite of all the naked statues.

At least having a winter birthday means you can blame your low party attendance on the weather.

Let's spend your winter birthday getting completely wasted on cold and flu medications.

I don't really like the autumn. For me it is the beginning of winter and I hate the winter. White, the colour of death.

Mist lies over the river like the icy breath of winter angels. Darkness gathers round... and it is beautiful.Thank you for this life, this death, whatever it is you arethat makes us finally see.

Spring had been the season for dying in the old days. Invalids who had struggled through the dark comfort of winter took fright as the night receded.

I'd thought there'd be no winter in the desert, but winter arrived anyway—silently, suddenly.

Maybe eventually winter will finish our job for us and end the world in ice instead of blood.

on a summer day winter always seems like something you have dreamt or heard spoken of and not a thing you have lived.

for on a summer day winter always seems like something you have dreamt or heard spoken of and not a thing you have lived.

The parson climbed the stairs wearily back to his room. In summer he was a different person, sprightly and alert, and people took him for a man a decade younger than his years; but in winter he sank as the skies darkened, and by December he was always tired. When he went to bed, he drowned in sleep; when he was wakened from it, dragged from the bleak depths, he was somehow always unrefreshed.

Is this a mild winter or a harsh winter?

All that winter I shoveled snow and read books. The lines of print, the alphabetic characters, the strokes of the shovel when I cleared a walk, the linear arrangement of words on a page, the shovel strokes, the rote exercises in school texts, the novels I read, the dictionaries I found in the tiny library, the nature and shape of books, the routine of shovel strokes in the deep snow - this was how I began to build an individual.

Mark Twain was credited with saying, "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.

If you're going to have an existential crisis, Portland in winter is hard to beat.

They were playing old Bob Dylan, more than perfect for narrow Village streets close to Christmas and the snow whirling down in big feathery flakes, the kind of winter where you want to be walking down a city street with your arm around a girl like on the old record cover

There was a strong sense of being alone, in wintry deadness. Nothing made sense in any direction.

In the old days, the snow would drift up to the eaves of the roofs and people would be trapped in their houses and starve to death, they wouldn't be found until spring.

for the first time I realized how lonely the next two months would really be, with the school closed, the snow deep, everyone gone.

The first snowfall of the season and everyone seems to forget, en masse, how to drive. I