Winter Quotes - Page 6

Iko held up a hand. "You need a system debug if you're suggesting that I would abandon you know.

During those snowy New England winters, besides learning to rise at five to study calculus and trudge two miles through the drifts for breakfast down the road, he had suppressed some tremendous element in himself that took form in a prudish virginity. While his life was impeccable on the surface, he felt he was behind glass: moving through the world in a separate compartment, touching no one else.

The dollar bills attached to her hips fluttered to the rug of the small square stage, like the first flakes of winter in the Bronx. (Dark City Lights)

What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.

All seasons are spectacular.

APPROACHRain is falling. Winter approaches. I drive towards it. In the slow rain. In the semi-darkness. Cello music is playing in the car. The deep sad sound of the cello. It almost swamps me. Routine endeavours to swamp me. The everyday paying of bills.But I paint men walking in a city of icebergs and crystal. Some of the icebergs are red. I paint a woman swimming in green wavy water. Surrounded by desert mesas. Bright orange in the sunlight. With darker orange for shadows. I paint two people. With purple and pink and yellow and blue circles overlapping the boundaries of their bodies. Dancing.Life is not ordinary. When I see you tonight I will press my lips to your eyelids. Each one in turn. I will rub my fingertips over the skin on the back of your hands and around your wrists. I will sigh. I will growl. I will whinny. I will gallop into your smile. One sharp foot after the other.

It is deep January. The sky is hard.The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.It is in this solitude, a syllable,Out of these gawky flitterings,Intones its single emptiness,The savagest hollow of winter-sound.

Winter arrived with December, and the world continued to suffer the loss of the Internet and most forms of communication. Supply chains were disrupted. The only mass form of personal communication was the letter, and postal workers were having their worst year ever, as they were actually meeded. Food was becoming scarcer and more expensive, as was fuel for vehicles and heating. Major cities experienced riots on a regular basis, spurred on by religious fervor and want. Civilization was on the brink of collapse.

Frost grows on the window glass, forming whorl patterns of lovely translucent geometry.Breathe on the glass, and you give frost more ammunition.Now it can build castles and cities and whole ice continents with your breath’s vapor.In a few blinks you can almost see the winter fairies moving in . . .But first, you hear the crackle of their wings.

As long as there exist summer, we shall love the winter! The day summer disappears from Earth, we shall hate the winter!

The cold seemed less relentless now. The small circle of white light from my bedside lamp and its hint of the dawn to come seemed to drive the worst of the chill away and the hot tea did the rest, as I lay and read further into the life of the young woman in the bravado coat.

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

If Springtime crawls out of thewild mouths of flowers, thensurely, Winter crawls out of mine.

Gripped with bitter cold, ice-locked, Petersburg burned in delirium. One knew: out there, invisible behind the curtain of fog, the red and yellow columns, spires, and hoary gates and fences crept on tiptoe, creaking and shuffling. A fevered, impossible, icy sun hung in the fog - to the left, to the right, above, below - a dove over a house on fire. From the delirium-born, misty world, dragon men dived up into the earthly world, belched fog - heard in the misty world as words, but here becoming nothing - round white puffs of smoke. The dragon men dived up and disappeared again into the fog. And trolleys rushed screeching out of the earthly world into the unknown. ("The Dragon")

Big Brown MooseI'm a big brown moose,I'm a rascally moose,I'm a moose with a tough, shaggy hide;and I kick and I prancein a long-legged dancewith my moose-mama close by my side.I shrug off the coldand I sneeze at the windand I swivel my ears in the snow;and I tramp and I trompover forest and swamp,'cause there's nowhere a moose cannot go.I'm a big brown moose, I'm a ravenous mooseas I hunt for the willow and yew;with a snort and a crunch,I rip off each bunch,and I chew and I chew and I chew.When together we slumpin a comfortable clump --my mountainous mama and I --I give her a nuzzleof velvety muzzle.Our frosty breath drifts to the sky.I'm a big brown moose,I'm a slumberous moose,I'm a moose with a warm, snuggly hide;and I bask in the moonas the coyotes croon,with my moose-mama close by my side.

WINTER SPOILER KINDACinder stared at his whitened knuckles and struggled for something meaningful to say. Her grand plan of revolution and change had just begun and already she felt like a failure. This seemed worse than failing the people of Luna, though. She'd failed the people she cared about most in the universe.Finally, she whispered, "I'm so sorry, Thorne.""Yeah," he said. "Me too.

October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy drafts that bit at exposed hands and faces.

You've fought for Winter so spectacularly, and I am more proud than I have ever been to call you my son. But don't forget to fight for yourself as well--there is no shame in that

I love winter. The bugs are dead, and the people are indoors.

You should see my corgis at sunset in the snow. It's their finest hour. About five o'clock they glow like copper. Then they come in and lie in front of the fire like a string of sausages.

Winter passed, suns and moons, and in the heat of summer each tree leaned across the stream and enmeshed its young foliage with the crown of its brother. More summers, more winters, more suns and moons, and the two had grown together, their great trunks fused, the stream parting now to flow round them.

Always choose the adventure ... unless, it's chilly outside and there's a cup of warm coffee resting near a book and comfy sofa.

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so wel

The days were longer then (for time, like money, is measured by our needs), when summer afternoons were spacious, and the clock ticked slowly in the winter evenings.

In honor of October, really just hours away now.....Brew me a cup for a winter's night.For the wind howls loud and the furies fight;Spice it with love and stir it with care,And I'll toast our bright eyes,my sweetheart fair.

To survive the Canadian winter, one needs a body of brass, eyes of glass, and blood made of brandy.

Following dark winter's strife, a warm air rises, teemed with life. Birth, rebirth, as the waiting die. Old love, new love sprouts wings to fly.

Are the days of winter sunshine just as sad for you, too? When it is misty, in the evenings, and I am out walking by myself, it seems to me that the rain is falling through my heart and causing it to crumble into ruins.

... but in the winter they were ensconced in a white powder of sparkling snow.

The Farmer’s Almanac promised a cold winter. The coldest in decades. Andrew grinned, unaware of how hideously ugly it made him. Let the winter be record breaking. The year would be marked in infamy and not for the weather alone. He could imagine the headlines, mentioning it as the winter of death, as his spree was just beginning. It would put the town on the map.

I knew by the signs it would be a hard winter. The hollies bore a heavy crop of berries and birds stripped them bare. Crows quarreled in reaped fields and owls cried in the mountains, mournful as widows. Fur and moss grew thicker than usual. Cold rains came, driven sideways through the trees by north winds, and snows followed.

A man says a lot of things in summer he doesn't mean in winter.

People say the beach is the great equaliserWho are they kidding?Sit at Bondi and watch the boys flexAnd the girls walk bolt uprightIt looks like a nightmare episode of Baywatch.The true equaliser is the mountain coldAnd stacks of cold flung togetherMaybe then we’d listen to what each other is sayingInstead of checking out the best bods.And as I wrap another layerAround my Size 10I think of Jack’s favourite saying:“today’s tan is tomorrow’s cancer”I walk outsideAnd whistle at the wind.

I don't really know that this story has a whole lot of things happen in it. It doesn't really. It's just a record of how things were in my life during this last winter. I guess things happened, but nothing out of the ordinary.

It was one of those years when there was no summer. There was no winter either. It was just November all year that year.

She deigned to asked me how ice queens reproduce. I grinned, and her mother looked horrified.“We procreate by way of ice cubes, of course. We put them in our nests and let them incubate for the period of about four months, and when the temperature is right, we put them out to roost and let them flake off into billions of snowflakes, rather like tadpoles breaking in droves from their eggs. And that, child,” I said, with a simulacrum of glee, “is how winter is born.”“Does it hurt?”“No more than the approach of Monday does to most of the world. It is a natural process, you understand, but it is dreadful hard work.

I was washing outside in the darkness,the sky burning with rough stars,and the starlight, salt on an axe-blade.The cold overflows the barrel.The gate's locked,the land's grim as its conscience.I don't think they'll find the new weaving,finer than truth, anywhere.Star-salt is melting in the barrel,icy water is blackening,death's growing purer, misfortune saltier,the earth's moving nearer to truth and to dread.

Maybe eventually winter will finish our job for us and end the world in ice instead of blood.

In the darkness of the night while removing the long colourful gown that covers my nakedness, there is chill penetrating bare cells and the sky is as silent as ever. Another day has withered unto the lap of mighty earth, to make her heart fertile, to feed those lives sprouting and then again to raise up to the skies to kiss life! This home is not yours, nor this earth! A breeze that caresses the orphan longings of the senses, like that of the softest music – so is life, a passing breeze! All I own is this moment! O night, do you see stars blinking hidden amidst the darkest clouds? O life, can you inhale the fragrance of unborn flowers dancing wet in the rain? O life, do you hear a song from the farthest skies, a secret melody of silence that I cherish deep within?

Love has different shape, like this falling snow in winter

June suns, you cannot store themTo warm the winter's cold,The lad that hopes for heavenShall fill his mouth with mould.

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

Winter is a season we all wish to start and end soon.

Is it snowing where you are? All the world that I see from my tower is draped in white and the flakes are coming down as big as pop-corns. It's late afternoon - the sun is just setting (a cold yellow colour) behind some colder violet hills, and I am up in my window seat using the last light to write to you.

It looks like something out of Whittier's "Snowbound,"' Julia said. Julia could always think of things like that to say.

Winter walks up and down the town swinging his censer, but no smoke or sweetness comes from it, only the sour, metallic frankness of salt and snow.

...the book had been written with winter nights in mind. Without a doubt, it was a book for when the birds had flown south, the wood was stacked by the fireplace, and the fields were white with snow; that is, for when one had no desire to venture out and one's friends had no desire to venture in.

Dandelion wine. The words were summer on the tongue. The wine was summer caught and stoppered...sealed away for opening on a January day with snow falling fast and the sun unseen for weeks...

Don’t predict the condition of the entire day by the state of the morning. You don’t judge a book by its cover. A cloudy morning is no guarantee for a rainy day!

Snow harder! Snow more!Snow blizzards galore!I can’t get enoughOf the fluffy white stuff!Snow! Snow! Snow!Snow a ton! Snow a heap!Snow ten feet deep!I wouldn’t cryIf it snowed til July.Snow! Snow! Snow!

They gathered after mass, sang hymns and read. Everyone had grown even more serene; beneath the sisters' kerchiefs it was as if there were no faces. When they met Daryushka — it was as if they bowed down lower. She was walking in the Spirit.Daryushka was entirely serene. She was thinking of nothing, had turned within herself, peering inside; and inside her all was smiling ever so gently.After the storm clear days came, frosty, crackling, clear days. Snow and sky, snow and sky, and the sky was even brighter, whiter, from the snow — and the snow sparkled with blue fires from the sky.Daryushka went down to the river with buckets, to the ice-hole. She went down to the landing alone... Snow, and sky, and brilliance...("He Has Descended")

If you allow coldness to engulf you before winter, season is helpless to help you.

There's no question winter here can take a chunk out of you. Not like the extreme cold of the upper Midwest or the round-the-clock darkness of Alaska might, but rather the opposite. Here, it's a general lack of severity - monotonous flat gray skies and the constant drip-drip of misty rain - that erodes the spirit.

He brewed his tea in a blue china pot, poured it into a chipped white cup with forget-me-nots on the handle, and dropped in a dollop of honey and cream. He sat by the window, cup in hand, watching the first snow fall. "I am," he sighed deeply, "contented as a clam. I am a most happy man.

It snowed all week. Wheels and footsteps moved soundlessly on the street, as if the business of living continued secretly behind a pale but impenetrable curtain. In the falling quiet there was no sky or earth, only snow lifting in the wind, frosting the window glass, chilling the rooms, deadening and hushing the city. At all hours it was necessary to keep a lamp lighted, and Mrs. Miller lost track of the days: Friday was no different from Saturday and on Sunday she went to the grocery: closed, of course.

It has started to snow. We all ran out when it began, and played at catching flakes as we used to when we were children. But it was cold, and our boots and gloves and cloaks were soon wet - you feel these things more when you are grown-up.

Don't sell the warmer for an air conditioner just because its summer, for in winter, you will have to do the reverse.

Silence can always be broken by the sound
Of footsteps walking over frozen groundIn winter when the melancholy treesStand abject and let their branches freeze

Winter, spring, and summer, passed away during my labours; but I did not watch the blossoms or the expanding leaves — sights which before always yielded me supreme delight, so deeply was I engrossed in my occupation.

Every little or big problem has a reason,Every year there is a winter season,Every trouble goes away with time,After winter spring comes with rhyme.