Quotes About Winter

Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories.

We love each other like this!… On my bed all in white, So white and vaporous like the flower of innocence, Like the froth of vice, Winter, Winter, Winter, We fall in a cluster of roses and lilies!

Fog plumed in front of his face with each breath, and his blue eyes sparkled under the lighting. A fat flake landed on his eyelashes. Layla unconsciously reached out and wiped it away with her gloved thumb. The look in his eyes shifted. She couldn't break away from his gaze. His hand tightened around hers. Suddenly she felt warm. Too many layers. She needed to ditch the scarf. Maybe the coat. What was wrong with her?

Rain-diamonds, this winter morning, embellish the tangle of unpruned pear-tree twigs; each solitaire, placed, it appears, with considered judgement, bears the light beneath the rifted clouds - the invisible shared out in endless abundance.

Coming from Chicago, I like a white Christmas.

Grand Mage," Ghastly said, as he put the map away, "did you know the sparrow flies south for the winter?" "What an odd thing to say," Ravel said, and as he turned, he snapped his palm against the air and Paloma slammed into the wall." ….."What do you know," Ravel said, breathing a little faster, "Skulduggery's silly little code actually works.

The Sparrow flies South for Winter" - Skulduggery Pleasant

The winter nights were very long. Sometimes the sun showed for an hour, sometimes for only a few minutes, sometimes it did not show at all for a week. The men hunted by the bright shining of the moon or by the northern lights.

I died on a bitter cold night. Beneath a black sky and a bruised winter moon, I tried to fly, hoping my arms might act as wings.

Mostly, I hope for snow in winter and the fortitude to bear it. — Jennifer Chang, from "The Strangers", Some Say the Lark . (?Alice James Books; 1st edition (October 10, 2017)

Her grey eyes sparkled with passion as she spoke. Sid looked into them and for a second he glimpsed her soul. He saw what she was - fierce and brave. Upright. Impatient. And good. So good that she would sit covered in gore, shout at dangerous men, and keep a long, lonely vigil - all to save the likes of him. He realized she was a rare creature, as rare as a rose in winter.

I could have explained that I wanted to walk without Doofus to get some air. But it would be pretty unusual-one might even go as far as to say unheard of-for me to take a hike on a winter night when I was exhausted from boarding all day.

Then Gavin got into his car, and Nick hiked through the snow toward his SUV. "Oh,mo," I mumbled through toothpaste. I couldn't let him get away.Not now. I swished,spat,and ran for the front door,pausing only to shove my feet into galoshes owned by some unknown member of Liz's family.Her stepdad,I decided as I tried to run down the snowy front steps. The galoshes were so big,it was like wading in a Tennessee river.

Saved by the bell! We all three jumped as the signal rang close above our heads. On a normal day the class would have flowed politely around Ms. Abernathy standing in the doorway. They might even have waited until she moved. But this bell let us out of school for winter break. Ms. Abernathy got caught in the current of students pouring out of her classroom and down the hall. If she floated as far as the next wing maybe a history teacher would throw her a rope and tow her to safety.

The people who are stuck between here and there, waiting. It reminds me of winter, how everything is all pale and cold and full of nothing, and all you can do is wait for spring.

She was tough enough to chop a hole in the ice and swim in January, so it was hard to think of her being trapped by her own mind.

My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods. Time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees — my love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath — a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff — he's always, always in my mind — not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself — but as my own being — so, don't talk of our separation again — it is impracticable.

Time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees.

Winter is not here yet. There's a little flower, up yonder, the last bud from the multitude of bluebells that clouded those turf steps in July with a lilac mist. Will you clamber up and pluck it to show papa?

For the vacant nest and silent song, Hope was there, and laughed me out of sadness; Whispering, Winter will not linger long!

In winter nothing more dreary, in summer nothing more divine, than those glens shut in by hills, and those bluff, bold swells of heath.

My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods. Time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees - my love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath - a source of little visible delight, but necessary. Nelly, I am Heathcliff - he's always, always in my mind - not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself - but, as my own being - so, don't talk of our separation again - it is impracticable

I'd soon put that little canary into the park on a winter's day as recommend you to bestow your heart on him!

The giant trees are bending. Their bear boughs weighed with snow; The storm is fast descending, And yet I cannot go.