Quotes About Snow

Though our setting for all these essays has been winter, our true subject has been time. We share a sense of timeless winter, of eternal winter as the place where time stands still, the poles as places permanently outside of our dailiness, the snow as nature's secret…we could lose the polar icecaps but would not stop hearing winter music.

Winter is the white page on which we write our hearts.

I know the stars by heart, the armies of the night, and there in the lead the ones that bring us snow or the crops of summer, bring us all we have-- our great blazing kings of the sky, I know them, when they rise and when the fall . . .

I know the stars by heart, the armies of the night, and there in the lead the ones that bring us snow or the crops of summer, bring us all we have-- our great blazing kings of the sky, I know them, when they rise and when they fall . . .

From windows we hear grieving mothers and snow begins to fall on us, like ash Black on edges of flames, it cannot extinguish the neighborhoods, the homes set ablaze by midnight soldiers

For as the rain comes down, and the snow from heaven, and do not return there, but water the earth, and make it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall My word be that goes forth from My mouth; it shall not return to Me void, but it shall accomplish what I please, and it shall prosper in the thing for which I sent it.(Isaiah 55:10–11)

itt was snowing as if you could hear wolves howling

For the first time in years he raised his eyes to the windows and saw, beyond the frozen roofs and under the crystal clear sky, the distant mountains gleaming, white with snow. They looked like silver clouds sailing gaily along, slow-moving, above the worries of the earth. He looked at them: for how long had he been oblivious to their existence? He thought, how different they are from us men, God, how pure and beautiful.

Every snowflake is unique, yet they are each perfect.

The snow is falling on the deserted field of my life, and my hopes, which roam far, are afraid of becoming frozen or lost.

How strange a thing is death, bringing to his knees, bringing to his antlers The buck in the snow . . . Life, looking out attentive from the eyes of the doe.

I hear the sounds of melting snow outside my window every night and with the first faint scent of spring, I remember life exists

Then there are no more planes, no more sounds of bombs. Our voices die down and the courtyard is quiet. It stays like that for a long time. Everyone is afraid to move in case a new wave of bombing starts up. "It is a miracle!" a woman cries. Then suddenly everyone is getting up from the ground, shaking off snow, embracing each other, cheering. "A miracle!" Mother agrees. There

I'm an all-or-nothing kind of girl when it comes to weather, I'd much rather it all melt away or have feet and feet of snow, so deep your knees sink in.

I learned you were fearless about the weather. You wanted to walk around the city, come rain come snow come sleet, recording things. I bought a warmer coat with many ingenious pockets. You put your hands in all of them.

It snows. So I don't even have to go to the pond for fresh water — just reach out the door for a handful of snow. Melt it, and it's sweet as the sky.

It was a palace, made entirely of gold, sitting on an island of silver snow at the very top of the world. East of the sun, and west of the moon.

septentrional;

Now that the bad weather had come, we could leave Paris for a while for a place where this rain would be snow coming down through the pines and covering the road and the high hillsides and at an altitude where we would hear it creak as we walked home at night. Below Les Avants there was a chalet where the pension was wonderful and where we would be together and have our books and at night be warm in bed together with the windows open and the stars bright. That was where we could go.

I looked around me and absorbed the peace of a sprawling bustling city stopped dead, socked in snow. My puppy jumped and barked, twisting and sliding. I was instantly wildly grateful just to be awake and witness all this stillness. I don't ever want to die, I thought, I want to live forever.

Of the eighty-one people who had been trapped by the early autumn snow at the eastern edge of the Sierra, thirty-six had died and forty-five had survived. No one remained at the high camps. For the Donner Party, the journey was finished.

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.

PÃ…â"¢istoupil jsem blíž a na desce vidím nápis. Dost kostrbatý. Znal jsem kdysi lu?iÅ¡tníka, který dovedl do snÄ›hu vymo?it hez?í runy.

Pada?o ca?? noc. ?wiat mia? zamieni? si? w sopel. Mia? przypomina? szklan? kul?, w której tkwi ma?y domek i ba?wan, a z b??kitnego nieba spadaj? ma?e p?atki. I tylko ha?as w ciemno?ci nie pasowa? do tego obrazu.