Quotes About Snow

I walked down my snow covered street. Out of habit I turned and checked for my footsteps. When I arrived at my building I looked for my name on the buzzers. And because I know that sometimes I see things that aren't there, after dinner I called Information to ask if I was listed.(25)

once a snowflake fell on my brow and i loved it so much and i kissed it and it was happy and called its cousins and brothers and a web of snow engulfed me then i reached to love them all and i squeezed them and they became a spring rain and i stood perfectly still and was a flower Winter Poem

That dog'll roll in the snow, run in the snow, eat the damn snow, but he wont throught it to shit. I dont clear the path, he shits right by the door. Why is that? Ryder asked. Owen replied, Hence the name. The name of Ryder's dog...Dumbass...

The falling flakes were random and without purpose; the snow was drunker than she was.

Through the white snow-gate of our ampitheatre, as through a frame we looked eastward upon the summit group; not a tree, not a vestige of vegetation in sight,-sky, snow and granite the only elements in this wild picture.

Its waters yawn with the same fathomless intensity as Rakshas Tal, but the peacock blue has deepened to a well of pure cobalt, edged by snow mountains that overlook it from one horizon to another.

Outside, the dark brushed the city and the wind unleashed the snow

I am the guardian of the sleeping fawn; the snow is dear to me; and the moon rising; and the silver sea.

I am the guardian of the sleeping fawn; the snow is dear to me; and the moon rising; and the silver sea. With my robes I cover the speckled hen's eggs and the brindled sea shell, I cover vice and poverty. On all things frail or dark or doubtful, my veil descends. Wherefore, speak not, reveal not. Spare, O spare!

It was January. Snow was falling; snow had fallen all day. The sky spread like a grey goose's wing from which feathers where falling all over England.

the Lord who had come to renew society, who lay like a coverlet, a snow blanket smitten only by the sun, for ever unwasted, suffering for ever, the scapegoat, the eternal sufferer...

It's a pity one can't imagine what one can't compare to anything. Genius is an African who dreams up snow.

The accumulation of consecutive rooms in his memory now resembled those displays of grouped elbow chairs on show, and beds, and lamps, and inglebooks which, ignoring all space-time distinctions, commingle in the soft light of a furniture store beyond which it snows, and the dusk deepens, and nobody really loves anybody.

And let me not leave out the moon—for surely there must be a moon, the full, incredibly clear disc that goes so well with Russian lusty frosts. So there it comes, steering out of a flock of small dappled clouds, which it tinges with a vague iridescence; and, as it sails higher, it glazes the runner tracks left on the road, where every sparkling lump of snow is emphasized by a swollen shadow.

As it happens with many people who do not trouble about religion in the ordinary trend of life, I hastily invented a soft, warm, tear-misty God, and whispered an informal prayer. Let me get there in time, let him hold out till I come, let him tell me his secret. Now it was all snow: the glass had grown a grey beard.

Il genio è un africano che vede in sogno la neve.

Retake the falling snow: each drifting flake Shapeless and slow, unsteady and opaque, A dull dark white against the day's pale white And abstract larches in the neutral light.

L'autre soir un air froid d'opéra m'alita; Son félé -- bien fol est qui s'y fie! Il neige, le décor s'écroule, Lolita! Lolita, qu'ai-je fait de ta vie? Dying, dying, Lolita Haze, Of hate and remorse, I'm dying. And again my hairy fist I raise, And again I hear you crying.

I think I'm coming up on the ess curve, so I'm going to hang up and concentrate on driving. In the snow. Which wasn't supposed to happen until tomorrow afternoon. Gee, Kels, I didn't know you believed in the weatherman. Do you still believe in Santa and the Tooth Fairy, too? How about the Easter Bunny? All right. Point taken.

And now...here I was. I stood by my bedroom window, watching Dorrie and Tegan growing smaller and smaller. The moonlight made the snow look silver – all that snow – and just looking at it made me cold.

She informed me that in the future, I was not to throw out Starbucks customers for being heartless bitches.' - The Patron Saint of Pigs (Let it Snow, 3) by Lauren Myracle

Miss Ruell was still covered with snow. She was untying a rope that was knotted around her waist. John realized she must have tied the other end to something in the schoolhouse.

snow-covered mountains and the Santa Cruz River, three miles wide.

that attention came with expectations that—like snow—drifted and settled and crushed you with their weight.