Honest Winter, snow-clad, and with the frosted beard, I can welcome not uncordially; But that long deferment of the calendar’s promise, that weeping gloom of March and April, that bitter blast outraging the honour of...

Ah! comme la neige a neigé!

It was early autumn, then, before the snow began to fly. –(There’s an expression for you, born in the country, born from the imaginations of men and their feeling for the right word, the only...

Winter is much like unrequited love; cold and merciless.

Flowers that bloom in the winter may not survive till spring.

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.

In the spring and summer I watched my plants flower, but it was, perhaps, in winter that I loved them best, when their skeletons were exposed. Then I felt they had more to say to...

The pale, cold light of the winter sunset did not beautify – it was like the light of truth itself. When the smoky clouds hung low in the west and the red sun went down...

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!

The nights were long, like the braids of a pretty girl, and the days were short, like a girl’s sense. (“The North”)

Deep silence fell about the little camp, planted there so audaciously in the jaws of the wilderness. The lake gleamed like a sheet of black glass beneath the stars. The cold air pricked. In the...

Sad; so sad, those smoky-rose, smoky-mauve evenings of late autumn, sad enough to pierce the heart. The sun departs the sky in winding sheets of gaudy cloud; anguish enters the city, a sense of the...

If the Mob was after you, the last thing you felt was alive. If the Mob was after you, it was only a matter of time before you were as dead as a doorknob. But...

Life and summer are fleeting,’ sang the bird. ‘Snow and dark, and the winter comes. Nothing remains the same.

The moon grew plump and pale as a peeled apple, waned into the passing nights, then showed itself again as a thin silver crescent in the twilit western sky. The shed of leaves became a...

Speaking of happiness, those distinctive moments are found outdoors – in the fall, in the winter and always in the mountains where people are few, wildlife is abundant and there is peace in the quiet.

But winter was necessary. Why else would the world have it? The trees seemed to welcome the season, from the way they changed colors before they dropped their leaves and went to sleep. Winter was...

Winter makes me want to rage. You know how there’s road rage? I feel like in New York or upstate New York, you’re just like, ‘Dammit,’ because you’re so cold.

And the cobwebs of timewould surrender,dormant, so that the rainbowsof new eras can emergeDespite the hollownessof you.

Wisconsin doesn’t look kindly on the weeks that slip in between the death of cold and the birth of warmth; Persephone may have left her husband, but she isn’t home yet, and this is one...

This winter, there will be no voices, no glimpses, no arms.only the fabric of poetry, to keep me warm.

Ice is most welcome in a cold drink on a hot day.But in the heart of winter, you want a warm hot mug with your favorite soothing brew to keep the chill away.When you don’t...

From above you could see the chaos of entangled plots on the other side of the road, and a couple of tough tethered goats, and the glint of a frozen pond somewhere in the trees....

Winter is already a lost shape, forgottenin the ground. Instead, here is Springwith all the grace of a womansmoothing out her apron.

It was a blustery winter night, back in the summer of 2009. That’s when we met, and that’s when I knew it was love, two years before.

When Jed comes in and gives you that look where his forehead wrinkles up and his chin drops so low that his baggy eyes can’t even look you square in your eyes, well, I guess...

Winter is nature’s way of sitting on the sofa and not doing a damn thing. When love grows cold, maybe it’s just impersonating January.

In spring we are on Earth; in summer we are on Earth; in autumn we are on Earth, but in winter we are in another planet; winter is another planet!

There are winter evenings in Massachusetts when there is no wind and the crust on the snow seems to hold in the cold. And if the moon is three-quarters full, its light adds a kind...

He raised his hand to brush a stray hair from her face. Instead of dropping his hand, he slid it behind her neck and drew her closer. His earthy pine scent enveloped her. When his...

…Following the bird you lay into a deep turn in the steepening descent. It [the snow] is super soft, bottomless and amazingly light, yet supportive. It feels like something in between floating on top, and...

Although it was only six o’clock, the night was already dark. The fog, made thicker by its proximity to the Seine, blurred every detail with its ragged veils, punctured at various distances by the reddish...

A song she heardOf cold that gathersLike winter’s tongueAmong the shadowsIt rose like blacknessIn the skyThat on volcano’sVomit riseA Stone of ruinFrom burn to chillLike black moonriseHer voice fell still…

Nothing is as tedious as the limping days,When snowdrifts yearly cover all the ways,And ennui, sour fruit of incurious gloom,Assumes control of fate’s immortal loom

But you must be awash in a sea of compliments, my lady. Every gentleman you meet must voice his admiration, his wish to make love to you. And those are only the ones who may...

The way ran zigzag through a forest of pine which the bitter wind, still that morning, had turned to ice; every bough was adorned with lines of stalactite which shivered and glittered in the morning...

He lived with his mother, father and sister; had a room of his own, with the fourth-floor windows staring on seas of rooftops and the glitter of winter nights when home lights brownly wave beneath...

…I’m just beginning to understand how kind you are.

How mighty you are as death comes upon you and your color fades. Yet from life and lush to bold array, screaming into the night.

My experience at the 1992 Winter Olympics was my fulfillment of dreaming the Impossible Dream.

The story was called ‘Annika and the Bears.’ The beginning of the story is really the end, and Annika is staring wide-eyed into new velvet-black darkness. The eyes she stares with were brown once, sparkling...

…the winter is kind and leaves red berries on the boughs for hungry sparrows…

Winter is not a season, it’s an occupation.

Winter is nature’s way of saying, “Up yours.

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...

Don’t mire up in self despair of your losses, learn from them and move on to other good things in life. Don’t stop allowing the sunshine in because of the fear that winter will come...

I’ve lived to se my longings dieI’ve lived to se my longings die:My dreams and I have grown apart;Now only sorrow haunts my eye,The wages of a bitter heart.Beneath the storms of hostile fate,My flowery...

The exact science of one molecule transformed into another — that Mabel could not explain, but then again she couldn’t explain how a fetus formed in the womb, cells becoming beating heart and hoping soul....

There are adventures of the spirit and one can travel in books and interest oneself in people and affairs. One need never be dull as long as one has friends to help, gardens to enjoy...

Nothing burns like the cold.