Quotes About Winter

Descobri a minha estrela. Ela é bela e graciosa. Elegante e divina. O meu riso no inverno. Ela é corajosa e forte. Arrojada e tentadora. Diferente de qualquer outra no universo e não posso tocar-lhe. Nem me atrevo a tentar.

Canadian winters are long. Life is hard and so is ice.

In the winter, things are dead and dull, but then there is an explosion of life. That's what He promises people who believe in His Son. That's what all the Robertsons are banking on.

In youth, grief comes with a rush and overflow, but it dries up, too, like the torrent. In the winter of life it remains a miserable pool, resisting all evaporation.

It may be that the ignorant man, alone, Has any chance to mate his life with life That is the sensual, pearly spouse, the life That is fluent in even the wintriest bronze.

A little rule, a little sway,A sunbeam in a winter's day,Is all the proud and mighty haveBetween the cradle and the grave.

It was a bad one, the Winter of 1933. Wading home that night through flames of snow, my toes burning, my ears on fire, the snow swirling around me like a flock of angry nuns, I stopped dead in my tracks. The time had come to take stock. Fair weather or foul, certain forces in the world were at work trying to destroy me.

To those Romans December twenty-fifth was the birthday of the sun. They wrote that in gold letters in their calendar. Every year about that time, the middle of winter, the sun was born once more and it was going to put an end to the darkness and misery of winter. So they had a great feast, with presents and dolls for everybody, and the best day of all was December twenty-fifth. That feast, they would tell you, was thousands of years old- before Christ was ever heard of.

you are enchanted - only a princess can leave glass footprints in the snow...

the winter is kind and leaves red berries on the boughs for hungry sparrows...

the wet brush of snowflakes was like your kisses everywhere ...

dark furrow lines grid the snow, punctuated by orange abacus beads of pumpkins - now the crows own the field...

winter crescent resting in the high pine bough - you fly through the woods like a lone snow bird...

you cross the field in the snow leaving tracks in perfect whiteness ...disturbing my placid universe...marking the landscape within me ...

all winter the acorns and red Maple leaf moldered in silence - in the same way grief is gnawing at me - slowly, imperceptibly... consuming...

I pray this winter be gentle and kind - a season of rest from the wheel of the mind...

summer softens lines that winter cruelly shows...

The Night is mother of the Day,The Winter of the Spring,And ever upon old DecayThe greenest mosses cling.

Fantastic! Right in the middle of that long stretch between Christmas and Spring Break, your coats are getting dirty, everything's dark, dingy - what a great time for a movie!

This will be a winter so desolate, only memory can fill the emptiness

On the solstice: "The tilting of the earth may very well have stopped at the winter solstice, creaking to a halt and starting back the other way, but I was down in the basement at the time, running a power saw, and didn't hear a thing.

Winter hedges me about, All the scene is cold and white. Clouds are laden all with doubt, And the day hath much of night. Yet I hold secure within Thoughts of spring and summer days, And above the north-wind's din Rise the Thrush's roundelays.

What I mean is, I love winter, and when you really love something, then it loves you back, in whatever way it has to love.

Good King Wenceslas looked outOn the feast of Stephen,When the snow lay round about,Deep and crisp and even.