Winter Quotes
Winter Quote of the day
What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.
A sad tale's best for winter: I have one of sprites and goblins.
It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
He who marvels at the beauty of the world in summer will find equal cause for wonder and admiration in winter.
I do love her, and that’s odd because she is everything I detest in anyone else.
Dark nights are unpleasant, " "Yes, for strangers to travel, ""The clouds are heavy.""Yes, a storm is approaching.
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.
A sap run is the sweet goodbye of winter. It is the fruit of the equal marriage of the sun and frost.
England is like the margin of a spring-run: near its source, always green, always cool, always moist, comparatively free from frost in winter and from drought in summer.
The hard soil and four months of snow make the inhabitants of the northern temperate zone wiser and abler than his fellow who enjoys the fixed smile of the tropics.
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.
There's such a good vibe in Minneapolis. You've got an upscale downtown, and yet people aren't afraid to sit around the fire pit in the middle of winter and drink a beer. It's amazing.
And the cobwebs of timewould surrender, dormant, so that the rainbowsof new eras can emergeDespite the hollownessof you.
You can only look forward to a South Dakota winter if, as with childbirth, remodeling a house, or writing a novel, you're able to forget how bad it was the last time.
It is in the coldest months that hugs linger snug, and they warm the soul the most.
We are all of the same substance, the same life. Though there are many differences between us, those are merely the shadows that delineate our boundaries. Our light is the same.
Along with rising and falling water, winter is the province of wind. When the sea-breath and mountain-roar bend the hemlocks of these hills, the birds hang on as best they can.
Every season has a reason. Summer cannot do the works of winter, nor winter the works of summer. Each season is unique yet so important, so cherish the seasons in your life.
We're supposed to love flowers, yet we rip them from their homes, and give them to people who don't love us."-Toril Withers (Dark Winter).
We need society, and we need solitude also, as we need summer and winter, day and night, exercise and rest.
Winter is the time for stories, staying fast by the glow of fire. And outside, in the darkness, the stars are brighter than you can possibly imagine.
I did not dread the dark winter as people do when they have lost their youth and live alone in some great city.
And we have a little herb garden, which survived the winter thanks to global warming. It makes me feel like a cool, old Italian housewife, that I kept my rosemary alive outside all winter.
Deep in Decemberit's nice to remember without a hurt the heart is hollow.
Who cares about the men who steered your breakfast cereal through winter storms? How ironic that the more ships have grown in size and consequence, the less space they take up in our imagination.
Last winter when I was coming home from church one Thursday evening, I saw somebody run around the house again. I told my father of that.
In the summer, we create memories of hot adventures so that those memories can warm-up the deep frozen winter.
Music brings a warm glow to my vision, thawing mind and muscle from their endless wintering.
As sure as the spring will follow the winter, prosperity and economic growth will follow recession.
Possibility is not a facet of opportunity. It's one of fate. And I've never been one to fear destiny.
So they went running together, silent, toward the vast wastes of snow where no living thing but they two moved under the stars of night.
Because the birdsong might be pretty, But it's not for you they sing, And if you think my winter is too cold, You don't deserve my spring.
Someone asked me when is my birthday?The poet inside me replied, "My birthday is on the last day of the year, It's 31st December my dear!
In an age of bombsguzzling blood, skylarks merge peacewith thought and action.
