Quotes About Snow

A quanto pare, i cristalli di neve con le loro forme uniche ostacolano la propagazione del suono e portano la quiete ovunque. Ma io la sento lo stesso... Quella voce che grida di solitudine in mezzo alla bufera.

I heard experts claim again and again that owning pets reduces stress and might extend your life. I tried to remember that as I dragged a hose out of the basement to fill the ducks' plastic swimming pool in January weather so cold, the snow complained as I stepped on it.

Gusts of snow blew in front of the car as he felt his way toward Man o' War Boulevard .... The snow-covered fields made him think of the desert. Black fences rimmed with snow created a grid against the blank, vanished ground. He saw five snow-blanketed horses huddled under a clump of trees .... He was surprised they weren't lolling on feather beds in their climate-controlled barns. Racehorses got better care than some people, he thought.

It snowed and snowed, the whole world over,Snow swept the world from end to end.A candle burned on the table;A candle burned.

He was furious. He wouldn't let me bury them. It didn't matter. There was no way to dig up the deckplates. He dried up the snow. He brought the night. He roared and sent locusts. It didn't do a thing; they stayed dead. I'd had him.

I'm not good with hospitals. The endless buildings, trees dotted around like apologies, and inside, it's job functions you can't understand and that air of incomprehensible busyness. Curtained-off beds and death settling like falling snow.

But why should you be interested in me? Good question. I can't explain it myself right this moment. But maybe – just maybe – if we start getting together and talking, after a while something like Francis Lai's soundtrack music will start playing in the background, and a whole slew of concrete reasons why I'm interested in you will line up out of nowhere. With luck, it might even snow for us.

With luck, it might even snow for us.

Snow floated down every once in a while, but it was frail snow, like a memory fading into the distance.

A sheet of white extends to the lone dark vertical of the elm tree in the centre ... It is too perfect, to inviolate ... The snow is graced with waves written by the wind, the elm raises crooked arms in sleeves of white.

All Heaven and Earth Flowered white obliterate... Snow...unceasing snow

I wrote a lot of 'Red Queen' wrapped in a blanket, cramped up while watching the snow come down.

Atlanta might have snow and Macon might have good weather, and they're not really far apart. But there's a period of time in the year where the gnats get all over your face and they bite you. And the Macon crowd, it's funny, but they can sit there like nothing's happening and there can be gnats just biting the hell out of your face.

I was exemplifying the Olympian who took up a challenge as a sportsman, without a trainer, in a country without mountains and without snow. And, inside of two years, I was representing my country.

The wind crooned softly as it dusted the snow against the windows, wrapping them in a thick and fluffy cotton blanket.

Not that you are unloved but that you love and must decide which to remember; tracks left in the field, a language of going away or coming back— and to look up from the single mind, to let untangle the far-off snow from sky until no longer held as proof is also where birds find agreement strung along branches each with their own song for the other, every note used to sing anyway— how to hold the already as the not yet

Even the snow melts, let alone the frugal regards of a soul confident in its own eternity.

In every room this is still your house, your history. And if in the morning I rise like a ghost, outside it is still winter and sun bright, and snow like the memory of a long rain.

Snow, get behind me! Charming shouted as he leaped to his feet. I'll handle this brute. Billy, the teacher cried. This is the twenty-first century, Women don't need the white knight routine anymore. I can fight my own battles.

Peter glances out at the falling snow. Oh, little man. You have brought down your house not through passion but by neglect. You who dared to think of yourself as dangerous. You are guilty not of the epic transgressions but the tiny crimes. You have failed in the most base and human of ways - you have not imagined the lives of others.

And there in the snow lay the pictures, like jewels bedded in white silk. They were paper-thin sheets of colored transparent isin glass of every size and shape, some round, some square, some damaged, some intact, some as large as church windows, others as small as snuffbox miniatures.

In fact this bad baronet died true to the conditions of his kind--mysteriously in his library, at midnight, while a great deal of snow was falling.

The most common misconception about me is that I'm basically a jazz singer.

We are a family of skiers, and great skiers.