Quotes About Winter

He had one more glimpse of them as he pulled the Jeep out: three figures captured in the headlights, a child clinging to a woman, a man with his arms around the woman's shoulders, the snow coming down on them, man, woman, and child, like figures in a Christmas globe.

Well now, look at this, they keep winter in a box. That's clever," she congratulated me. Then she shut the fridge door...

I can be counted among the thirty million who voluntarily live in a country with annual plagues. A black death called winter that descends upon us all.

Greetings on this most exceedingly beautiful spring morning. A morning swollen with new life, a morning on which, if I had the voice, I would let loose with song. It's hard to believe just a few short weeks ago we were eating our cornflakes in the wintery dark. Now, well it's still kind of dim out there, but I can see the golden glow of Apollo's chariot waiting in the wings, about to make its entrance. Winter's on the lam, no doubt.

Weird, isn't it Somehow in the dead of winter when its 40 below, so cold your words just freeze in the air, you think you'll never hear a robin's song again or see a blossom on a cherry tree, when one day you wake up and bingo, light coming through the mini blinds is softened with a tick of rose and the cold morning air has lost its bite. It's spring once again, the streets are paved with mud and the hills are alive with the sound of mosquitos.

I prefer winter and Fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape — the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show.

No. I've no time to waste. Winter's coming.

Last winter Prince Hrobarik, not being so gracious, tried to hire me to find a beauty who, sick of his vulgar advances, had fled the ball, losing a slipper. It was difficult to convince him that he needed a huntsman, and not a witcher.

Mude o nome da taberna para A Espada do Bruxo, para que nas noites de inverno aqui sejam contadas histórias sobre tesouros e monstros, sobre uma guerra sangrenta, sobre batalhas ferozes, sobre a morte. Sobre um grande amor e uma amizade inabalável. Sobre a coragem e a honra.

Last winter Prince Hrobarik, not being so gracious, tried to hire me to find a beauty who, sick of his vulgar advances, had fled the ball, losing a slipper.

That's why I drove there in the middle of February, patches of snow still on the fields. I had the strong feeling that somewhere between Sluejow, Wygwizdow, and Solec time had ground to a halt or simply evaporated or melted like a dream and no longer separated us from our childhood.

One haiku hints at both the joys and sadness of a solitary monk on a pilgrimage in the winter: Even in my empty begging bowl A piece of hail.

There is a vast melancholy in the canticles of the wolves, melancholy infinite as the forest, endless as these long nights of winter and yet that ghastly sadness, that mourning for their own, irremediable appetites, can never move the heart for not one phrase in it hints at the possibility of redemption.

There is a vast melancholy in the canticles of the wolves, melancholy infinite as the forest, endless as these long nights of winter and yet that ghastly sadness, that mourning for their own, irremediable appetites, can never move the heart for not one phrase in it hints at the possibility of redemption; grace could not come to the world from its own despair, only through some external mediator, so that, sometimes, the beast will look as if he half welcomes the knife that despatches him.

When the sun goes down, it is very cold and then I easily start crying because the winter moon pierces my heart The Smile of Winter

cold nips ears bites sides snaps trees can't hide crusts snow covers grass thickens water frozen fast invades lungs mists breath shivers skin makes death

Outside the cottage, the North Wind howled mournfully. The snow flurries from earlier in the day had thickened, and now the wind brought with it a thick, swirling blizzard that blew in over the Marram Marshes and began to cover the land with deep drifts of snow.

the silk is so fine…and look at this fur trim, that's even better than Marcia's winter cloak, isn't it?" Jenna

In the course of my work this last long winter, I have experienced a truth more completely than ever before: that life's bestowal of riches already surpasses any subsequent impoverishment. What, then, remains to be feared? Only that we might forget this! But around and within us, how much it helps to remember!

It sure did grow big snowballs, didn't it?

Outside was the huge winter sky, which made you dizzy just to think of it, inside a small family drama, a soap opera. And she was in the middle.

The winters were so bleak and black that in the summer folk were overtaken with a kind of frenzy, constant activity. There was the feeling that you had to make the most of it, be outside, enjoy it before the dark days came again. Here in Shetland they called it the 'simmer dim'.

Now that our kids are getting older, they need their space. We dug out the basement so they will have a place to go crazy in the wintertime. My son is already talking about how he's going to make a skateboard ramp. It's just a mosh pit down there, so they can do whatever they want. We're not even going to finish it.

In Boston serpents whistle at the cold.