Quotes About Frost

SOMETIMES, BUT NOT OFTEN, a rain comes to the Salinas Valley in November. It is so rare that the Journal or the Index or both carry editorials about it. The hills turn to a soft green overnight and the air smells good. Rain at this time is not particularly good in an agricultural sense unless it is going to continue, and this is extremely unusual. More commonly, the dryness comes back and the fuzz of grass withers or a little frost

... where I walked, the frost shaped itself to my will, dancing in the air like music over water.

We can no longer let the threat of an early frost send a chill of fear throughout a large portion of our workforce. Diversification is the only answer.

Hope is a straw hat hanging beside a window covered with frost.

All true friendliness begins with fire and food and drink and the recognition of rain or frost.

You cant get too much winter in the winter.

796.352'09—dc21 2002068930 FIRST PAPERBACK EDITION Paperback ISBN: 978-0-7868-8800-9 EPub Edition © 2010 ISBN: 9781401381868 10 9 8 7 6

Frost, stop." Moon had seen groundlings spank their young before and had no idea how that would work with a Raksuran fledgling queen. But he was ready to give it a try.

I created an icicle sculpture in the snow. White on white.

The snow had turned to glass, growing green and blue; a rose colour filled our eyes until they almost died. We stayed until we too felt that we too were metamorphosing into trees. We could feel the frost-cold roots beneath our feet, growing, binding us to to the ground.

Warmth, warmth, more warmth! For we are dying of cold and not darkness. It is not the night that kills, but the frost.

By?o pogodnie, minus dwadzie?cia stopni.

the air had that midwinter crackle. You know that feeling, like the air might break? .

Winter bites with its teeth or lashes with its tail.

Last night, there came a frost, which has done great damage to my garden.... It is sad that Nature will play such tricks on us poor mortals, inviting us with sunny smiles to confide in her, and then, when we are entirely within her power, striking us to the heart.

I am a winter person, never happier than on a clear, frosty morning.

Sometimes with the most intense pain a paralysis of sensibility occurs. The soul disintegrates--hence the deadly frost--the free power of the mind--the shattering, ceaseless wit of this kind of despair. There is no inclination for anything any more--the person is alone, like a baleful power--as he has no connection with the rest of the world he consumes himself gradually--and in accordance with his own principle he is--misanthropic and misotheos.

Winter is the king of showmen, Turning tree stumps into snowmen And houses into birthday cakes And spreading sugar over lakes. Smooth and clean and frosty white, The world looks good enough to bite. That's the season to be young, Catching snowflakes on your tongue. Snow is snowy when it's snowing, I'm sorry it's slushy when it's going.

Winter, I wrote, was akin to living inside a refrigerator.

Winter mornings are made of steel; they have a metallic taste and sharp edges.

Through the frost-covered glass, he could just make out a woman's face. She rolled down the window. "Jack West?" He found himself looking into a pair of familiar green eyes. Her dark hair was longer than the last time he'd seen her, and there were lines of weariness on her face. Still, he recognized her immediately. "Well, hello, there, SA Killeen. It seems you've run into a little trouble.

Right after Thanksgiving, that necromancer vampire challenged Marsilia—Frost

When was the first time you saw Frost?" "When he tried that coup on Marsilia," I said. "Um. Two years ago? Okay, right. That means it can't have been Frost.

One will never again look at a birch tree, after the Robert Frost poem, in exactly the same way.