Quotes About Snow

You and I are walking in the snow. Why are you walking backwards? I ask. You point in the direction we came from. So they'll think that's where I'm going. You point to where we're going. And that's where I'm from.

Do you wonder why we wander?" Cal had asked. It was the night of the first snow; you could hear the branches bending and the icicles falling outside the window, beyond the wall. They were warmth together. They were hot breath and blankets and wrapping themselves close. And Elijah had thought, I wonder why I never kiss you. I wonder what would happen. But he didn't say anything out loud.

In binghamton, new york, winter meant snow, and though I was young when we left, I was able to recall great heaps of it, and use that memory as evidence that North Carolina was, at best, a third-rate institution. What little snow there was would usually melt an hour or two after hitting the ground, and there you'd be in your windbreaker and unconvincing mittens, forming a lumpy figure made mostly of mud. Snow Negroes, we called them. The

Fat flakes of snow fell like silent, feathery ghosts in the windless sub-arctic night beyond the window.

It was going to be a long winter.

Here in our mountains, the snow falls even on the maple leaves.

The snow on the distant mountains was soft and creamy, as if veiled in a faint smoke.

Even if you took it as cascading snowy mountains,it was not a cool snow-white. The cold of the snow and it's warm colour made a kind of music.

THE TRAIN came out of the long tunnel into the snow country.

It was a stern night landscape. The sound of the freezing of snow over the land seemed to roar deep into the earth. There was no moon. The stars, almost too many of them to be true, came forward so brightly that it was as if they were falling with the swiftness of the void. As the stars came nearer, the sky retreated deeper and deeper into the night color.

The west coast of the main island of Japan is probably for its latitude (roughly, from Cape Hatteras to New York, or from Spanish Morocco to Barcelona) the snowiest region in the world.

It was such a beautiful voice that it struck one as sad. In all its high resonance it seemed to come echoing back across the snowy night.

Un largo rato nos miramos; una eternidad de silencio, durante el cual el recuerdo galopó hacia atrás entre derrumbamiento de nieve y caras agónicas. Pero la mirada de Enid era la vida misma, y presto entre el tercipelo húmedo de sus ojos y los míos no medió sino la dicha convulsiva de adorarnos. ¡Y nada más!

my earliest memories of the snow are unhappy ones. I stepped into a snow drift that was so deep I sank in up to my waist and couldn't get out.

Soms verbeeld ik me dat ik de sneeuw kan ruiken. Ruik jij hem ook, Hans?' 'Ik geloof het wel, ja, het is een geur als van kristal,' zei ik. 'Heeft kristal dan een geur? ... Dat wist ik niet!' 'Nee, natuurlijk niet, maar als het een geur had zou het net de geur van sneeuw zijn.' 'Je bent een vreemde jongen,' lachte zij en voegde er na enig aarzelen spontaan aan toe: 'Een vreemde, lieve jongen.

He looked down at the street, and the unbroken whiteness, and watched his foot touch the snow and listened to the slight crunching sound as he stepped forward. He looked back at his footprints. They were fascinating. He had been the only one to walk along this street today. There wasn't even the mark of a dog or squirrel, or the scratch of a bird. He continued through the soft, silent snow, a feeling of peace starting to flow through him, helping make his step lighter and easier.

I remember wishing there was snow in L.A. And how jealous we used to get of those Christmas specials with kids playing in the snow.

don't wait for the man standing in the snow to cut off his arm help him now

Snow as white as a swan's feather, white as a trillium bloom.

snowdrifts, that is. Inside the church, chaos

It looked unusual: a single large print in the snow with two sharp claws protruding from the rear of the mark going a couple of inches deeper. It almost looked like a bird of prey, maybe a raptor print, but huge and, from the depth of the print, from a very heavy creature. I began videotaping,

The hiss was now becoming a roar—the whole world was a vast moving screen of snow—but even now it said peace, it said remoteness, it said cold, it said sleep.

Looking out of a tent door into a world of snow and vanishing hopes. ~George Mallory

In the north, we remember, our grief had reasons: confinement and cold, the pipes frozen, new snow so deep you wake, look out, and sink back into the week-long loneliness.