Quotes About Snow

My first time skiing was in Vail, Colorado. It was brilliant fun until I whacked myself in the face with my ski pole.

When I was born, my parents were huge into skiing. I grew up on Mont Blanc, skiing on that hill. I was really a ski baby. Loved it; I still love it.

As an Aussie, my favourite holidays are skiing ones.

I love touring in the United States. It's dramatically different wherever you go. North to south you're going from snow to palm trees.

A year in Vermont, according to an old saw, is nine months of winter followed by three months of very poor sledding.

Wow, it really snowed last night! Isn't it wonderful? Everything familiar has disappeared! The world looks brand new! A new year ... a fresh, clean start! It's like having a big white sheet of paper to draw on! A day full of possibilities! It's a magical world, Hobbes, ol' buddy ... let's go exploring!

I should be doing my homework now. But the way I look at it, playing in the snow is a lot more important. Out here I'm learning real skills that I can apply throughout the rest of my life. - Such as? - Procrastination and rationalization.

You come out; it is still dark. The door creaks, or perhaps you sneeze, or the snow crunches under your foot, and hares start up from the far cabbage patch and leap away, leaving the snow criss-crossed with tracks. In the distance dogs begin to howl and it takes a long time before the quieten down. The cocks have finished their crowing and have nothing left to say. Then dawn breaks.

The wind swept the snow aside, ever faster and thicker, as if it were trying to catch up with something, and Yurii Andreievich stared ahead of him out of the window, as if he were not looking at the snow but were still reading Tonia's letter and as if what flickered past him were not small dry snow crystals but the spaces between the small black letters, white, white, endless, endless.

What's this bit in Chinese that keeps popping up?" he said. "XuÄ• Lóng?" "It's the codename for the operation." "What does it mean?" "XuÄ• Lóng is a mythical Chinese creature said to bring darkness, cold, and death." "What's the translation?" "In English, it would be called a snow dragon.

Though we were in shelter, we could hear the rising wind, for it moaned and whistled through the rocks, and the branches of the trees crashed together as we swept along. It grew colder and colder still, and fine, powdery snow began to fall, so that soon we and all around us were covered with a white blanket

Maybe forgetfulness, like a kind snow, should numb and cover them. But they were a part of me. They were my landscape.

This is my first snow at Smith. It is like any other snow, but from a different window, and there lies the singular charm of it.

God, I scream for time to let go, to write, to think. But no. I have to exercise my memory in little feats just so I can stay in this damn wonderful place which I love and hate with all my heart. And so the snow slows and swirls, and melts along the edges. The first snow isn't good for much. It makes a few people write poetry, a few wonder if the Christmas shopping is done, a few make reservations at the skiing lodge. It's a sentimental prelude to the real thing. It's picturesque & quaint.

Maybe forgetfullness, like a kind snow, should numb and cover them. But they were part of me. They were my landscape.

I am sitting in my room, looking out at a scene of snow pouring down with ice and sleet and thinking of how sometimes people are really wonderful after all.

It was the day after Christmas and a gray sky bellied over us, fat with snow. I felt overstuffed and dull and disappointed, the way I always do the day after Christmas, as if whatever it was the pine boughs and the candles and the silver and gilt-ribboned presents and the birch-log fires and the Christmas turkey and the carols at the piano promised never came to pass.

Hastanenin arazisi yeni yaÄŸm?? karla örtülüydü -bu bir Noel serpintisi deÄŸil, ocak ay?n?n adam boyu kar?yd?, okullar?, iÅŸ yerlerini, kiliseleri kapatt?r?p bir gün boyunca ya da daha uzun süreyle not ve randevu defterlerinin, masa takvimlerinin üstünde bomboÅŸ, tertemiz bir sayfa b?rakan türden bir kar.

Maybe forgetfulness, like a kind snow, should numb and cover them. But they were part of me. They were my landscape.

Habría un hoyo negro de seis pies de profundidad en el duro suelo. Esa sombra se uniría con esta sombra, y el peculiar suelo amarillento de nuestra localidad sellaría la herida en la blancura, y otra nevada borraría la novedad en la tumba de Joan

What word blue could get that dazzling drench of blue moonlight on the flat, luminous field of white snow, with the black trees against the sky, each with its particular configuration of branches? I felt shut in, imprisoned, aware that it was fine and shudderingly beautiful, but too gone with pain and aching to respond and become part of

Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgetful snow

Snowbébé, Snowbébé... These days...your memories of me have left you too, haven't they? My voice reaches you no more. You look wonderful, Snowbébé—so strong and valiant. Fight on, with your tail held high! I'm always right here. Always watching everyone from up here... Snowbébé, Snowbébé... Snowbébé, Snowbébé...

Draum om nedsnødde bruer Med vi står fell snøen tettare. Kåpearmen din blir kvit. Kåpearmen min blir kvit. Dei går mellom oss som nedsnødde bruer. Men nedsnødde bruer er frosne. Inni her er det levande varmt. Varm under snøen er armen din ei sæl vekt på min. Det snør og snør på stille bruer. Bruer ingen veit om.