Quotes About Winter

Grace is the permanent climate of divine kindness; the perennial infusion of springtime into the winter of bleakness.

I love when it snows it slows everything down.

During the winter of 1499 Bramante came to Rome in search of patronage. He at once took advantage of his unemployment to immerse himself in the monuments, even dashing off a four-page pamphlet for classically-minded tourists.

IT happened that in the midst of the dissipations attendant upon a London winter, there appeared at the various parties of the leaders of the ton a nobleman, more remarkable for his singularities, than his rank.

Words, as. it happens, sometimes survive the millennia better than material objects, and they do so best in areas in which the culture changed only very slowly - as in the far north, where the intense winter cold discouraged immigrants.

Have you ever loved anything?" "Yes. Yes. All the wrong things. The hunt, and darkness, and winter, and you, Godmother.

Have you ever loved anything?" Yes. Yes. All the wrong things. The hunt, and darkness, and winter, and you, Godmother.

He knew how warm a thing praise could be, and even in the bitterest days of winter, he who had always felt the cold so, found that appreciation wrapped him like a cloak.

Let the fairy tale begin on a winter's morning, then, with one drop of blood newly-fallen on the ivory snow: a drop as bright as a clear-cut ruby, red as a single spot of claret on the lace cuff.

Sometimes in winter there comes a spell of snowstorms and sunshine and terrific contentment. On snowy afternoons there is a special blessedness in saying, oh it is too snowy to chop wood this afternoon. And the gray snow sifts down, and one takes off one's boots and sits by the fire and is glad of the way wool socks smell; and a pie is baking in the oven, and the gray snow is sifting down.

In winter we often go down to the cellar and contemplate the art gallery. When a blizzard is howling outside is the best time.

ya no hacía tanto frío y las tolvaneras se habían acabado, sólo quedaba el esmog porque a ese cabrón no se lo lleva nadie.

There was just a thin fall of powdery snow in the air. It came onto their hats, not seeming to fall as much as to suddenly appear with its chill greeting on lips and noses.

There's a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons-- That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes--

In any of the world's cities, on a winter night, a boy can be bought for the price of a beer and the promise of warm blankets.

Each household gathered in its chimney-corner, in houses carefully closed from the outer air, and well supplied with biscuit, melted butter, dried fish, and other provisions laid in for the seven-months winter. The very smoke of these dwellings was hardly seen, half-hidden as they were beneath the snow, against the weight of which they were protected by long planks reaching from the roof and fastened at some distance to solid blocks on the ground, forming a covered way around each building.

In the uncertain ebb and flow of time and emotions, much of one's life history is etched in the senses. And things of no particular importance, or irreplaceable things, can suddenly resurface in a café one winter night.

Chilled-looking people walking along the riverside, the snow beginning, faintly, to pile up on the roofs of cars, the bare trees shaking their heads left and right, dry leaves tossing in the wind. The silver of the metal window sash sparkling coldly. Soon after, I heard sensei call, "Mikage! Are you awake? It's snowing, look! It's snowing!" "I'm coming!" I called out, standing up. I got dressed to begin another day. Over and over, we begin again.

Because the sky is high and lonely, and it makes me feel very alone, and that makes my heart dance, and then I feel stronger. But at the same time, there's this energy in the air; it's a time of waiting, before winter really sets in.

Of that day in which everything was just too beautiful in the transparent winter air, what I remember most is the sight, when I turned back to look, of Hitoshi's black jacket melting into the darkness.

In the uncertain ebb and flow of time and emotions, much of one's life history is etched in the senses. And things of no particular importance, or irreplaceable thing, can suddenly resurface in a café one winter night.

In the uncertain ebb and flow of time and emotions, much of one's life history is etched in the senses. And things of no particular importance, or have irreplaceable things, can suddenly resurface in a cafe one winter night.

Because the sky is high and lonely, and it makes me feel very alone, and that makes my heart dance, and then I feel stronger. But at the same time, there's this energy in the air; it's a time of waiting, before winter really sets in.

hot breakfast on a cold winter morning