You have to feel the bite of the wind to appreciate the warmth of a winter coat.
The first day I arrived, they told me to go home and get rid of that cold.
When eyes have died in its gaze, know the heart had died in its blaze.
My hair isn’t as white as snow, because it’s not old enough—or cold enough.
I started out as a Cold Warrior, even my last years in grade school.
The cold is a lonely person’s way to feel alone and death.
For there was nothing in his eyes but the black night and the cold stars.