Quotes About Snow

Do you hear that, Coriolanus? It's the sound of Snow falling.

sneeuw komt er altijd bovenop" Dit is mijn favoriete citaat . Het is de laatste zin van het boek, dit zinnetje wordt vaak vermeld doorheen het boek als het hoofdpersonage genaamd C. Snow het moeilijk heeft,( snow betekent sneeuw in het nederlands). het is dus een zeer krachtige zin om het boek mee af te sluiten.

I search my heart, but at the moment the only person I can feel creeping up on me is Snow.

His skin, his whole being, radiates heat from being so near the fire, and I close my eyes, soaking in his warmth. I breathe in the smell of snow-dampened leather and smoke and apples, the smell of all those wintry days we shared before the Games. I don't try to move away. Why should I, anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. "I love you.

clock, he probably won't die in the jungle, so someone's going to have to kill him in battle. Because this is so repellent to think about, my mind frantically tries to change topics. But the only thing that distracts me from my current situation is fantasizing about killing President Snow. Not very pretty daydreams for a seventeen-year-old girl, I guess, but

Anyone? On Snow's visit before the Victory Tour, he challenged me to erase any doubts of my love for Peeta. "Convince me," Snow said. It seems, under that hot pink sky with Peeta's life in limbo, I finally did. And in doing so, I gave him the weapon he needed to break me.

She didn't fall off the bridge! The snow would look different where she was standing!" Maude Ivory insisted. "Lucy Gray, which is it?" "It's a mystery, sweetheart. Just like me. That's why it's my song," Lucy Gray answered.

I remember his words . . . "Don't worry. I always channel my emotions into my work. That way I don't hurt anyone but myself." . . . and I'm afraid he has hurt himself beyond repair. The significance of my fiery transformation will not be lost on President Snow.

The cease-fire's clearly President Snow's idea. But it seems so reasonable coming out of Peeta's mouth.

I feel like my mother when her first line of defense for treating everything was snow. I look over at the jungle. I bet there's a whole pharmacy in there if I knew how to use it.

becoming overrun with refugees. At this rate, Tigris may have new houseguests by lunch. It was good for everybody that we got out when we did. It's brighter now, even with the snow

Kindness is like a warm blanket of snow, softly covering and gently touching the heart.

...I hardly ever see your profile, but have I told you it's beautiful? - like the soft gentle lines of snow...

The day is crisp and clear, almost like every other morning he's taken the same walk in the snow, hiking to the forest and back.

A few feathery flakes are scattered widely through the air, and hover downward with uncertain flight, now almost alighting on the earth, now whirled again aloft into remote regions of the atmosphere.

I sit in the sky like a sphinx misunderstood; My heart of snow is wed to the whiteness of swans; I hate the movement that displaces the rigid lines, With lips untaught neither tears nor laughter do I know.

With the snow piling up outside, the warm dry cabin hidden in its fold of the mountain felt like a safe haven indeed, though it had not been such for the people who had lived there. Soldiers had found them and made the cabin trailhead to a path of exile, loss, and death. But for a while that night, it was a place that held within its walls no pain nor even a vague memory collection of pain.

I tell you Charlie, I was there waiting in that field. waiting for Ede and Tom to find me. You don't think two people come together for nothing, do you? They were together because I was waiting to be found... Then she looked straight into my face and said to me: You know it, too, Charlie. All that time you waited for me to find you. What if I hadn't? What if I'd said: I won't? She turned, and clinging to my arm, she surveyed the fields of snow the stretched away to the confining wall.

Outside, snow solidified itself into graceful forms. The peace of winter stars seemed permanent.

Down came the dry flakes, fat enough and heavy enough to crash like nickels on stone. It always surprised him, how quiet it was. Not like rain, but like a secret.

There's plenty, isn't there? Not those frycake things they like but good hot food the winters are so bad we need coal a sin to burn trees on the prairie yesterday the snow sifted in under the door quaesumus, da propitius pacem in diebus nostris Sister Roberta is peeling the onions et a peccato simus semper liberi can't you ab omni perturbatione securi…

From the windows, through the fur of snow, the landscape became more melancholy when the sun successfully brightened the quiet trees, unable to speak without their leaves.

before the gate -- my walking stick's made a river of melting snow

A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water.