Winter Quotes
The young princess was as beautiful as daylight. She was more beautiful even than the queen herself
She screamed like an assassin was driving a knife into her stomach.She screamed like a thousand birds were pecking at her flesh.She screamed like the palace was burning down around her.
I'll be your blanket, baby. Wrap yourself up in me. Let me give you shelter, in the winter of this world.
To say goodbye, is to die a little.To say good morning, is a hope for a new sunshine in a cloudy winter.
There is an instinctive withdrawal for the sake of preservation, a closure that assumes the order of completion. Winter is a season unto itself.
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
No, I don't miss you... Not in a way that one is missed.But I think of you. Sometimes.In the way that one might think of the summer sunshineOn a winter night...
December, being the last month of the year, cannot help but make us think of what is to come.
In the summer heat the reapers say, “We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair.
Isn't it true that a pleasant house makes winter more poetic, and doesn't winter add to the poetry of a house?
You have to feel the bite of the wind to appreciate the warmth of a winter coat.
Oh, how magical it will be to have winter come every year.
We experience a discomfort that may be foreign to others, but that pain opens up a world of beauty. Wouldn't you think?
Got nothing to say now, huh? Figures." She snorted. Hearing voices was one thing, but talking back to them probably hiked her up to a whole new level of psychosis. Awesome.
As long as there exist summer, we shall love the winter! The day summer disappears from Earth, we shall hate the winter!
Beautiful winter means beautiful spring! When you look at a great winter scenery, see the flowers, see the bees, see the butterflies, they are all there!
And just like a midsummer nights breeze, she ran away, into the moonlight, a fox, proud and strong. The lone wolf walked away, saddened she was gone.
Winter was gray and mean upon the city and every night was a package of cold bleak hours, like the hours in a cell that had no door.
To survive the Canadian winter, one needs a body of brass, eyes of glass, and blood made of brandy.
By lunchtime the valley was lightly coated, like a cake with confectioner's sugar...there was white fur on the antlers of the iron deer and on the melancholy boughs of the Norway spruce.
Oh deep winter snow, pale executioner, thou who delights in a slow, torturous death.
I hate winter. I’ve lived in Syracuse my whole life and I hate winter. It starts too early and ends too late. No one likes it.
At my place I can really tell when winter has come.. It's when sunlight is pathetically crawling in my courtyard, incapable of reaching my window anymore.
Or winters when the sloughs were frozen over and dead and i could walk across the ice and snow between the dead cattails and see nothing but grey skies and dead things and cold
Winter is coming, warned the Stark words, and truly it had come to them with a vengeance. But it is high summer for House Lannister. So why am I so bloody cold?
At least until there are new lakes in the clouds that open upon living cities as yet unknown, and perhaps forever, that is a question which you must answer within your own heart.
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...
Franklin knew that the truth lay with the winter night: the world was silent and black-and-white.
...I hear the sounds of melting snow outside my window every night and with the first faint scent of spring, I remember life exists...
Maybe eventually winter will finish our job for us and end the world in ice instead of blood.
Spiders evidently as surprised by the weather as the rest of us: their webs were still everywhere - little silken laundry lines with perfect snowflakes hung out in rows to dry.
It was one of those years when there was no summer. There was no winter either. It was just November all year that year.
NEW HAIKUOne breathy vowelmists the glass warming windowpanes crystalled with snowRobin Glasser
And the cobwebs of timewould surrender, dormant, so that the rainbowsof new eras can emergeDespite the hollownessof you.
If a tree is bent, every goat will jump on it.