When Josey woke up and saw the feathery frost on her windowpane, she smiled. Finally, it was cold enough to wear long coats and tights. It was cold enough for scarves and shirts worn in...

Song falls silent, music is dumb,But the air burns with their fragrance,And white winter, on its knees,Observes everything with reverent attention.

If hope is a feeling that can defeat fear,then at that time I walked uphill through a bed of snow, my tracks were of joyful determination.

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,...

El verano es una estación triste en la que nada crece. Quién no prefiere el mes de diciembre pese a la amargura que provoca la felicidad ajena; incluso la establecida crueldad de abril es mil...

One winter I wrapped myself in newspaper, for warmth and for illiteracy.

Our wings serve as flippers that carry us across the ocean; not in the sky!Why, us penguins have so much fun time in the water, we don’t even want to fly!

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.

I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says “Go to...

The past was like a bad dream; the future was all happy holiday as I moved Southwards week by week, easily, lazily, lingering as long as I dared, but always heeding the call!

The Art of Living is to be yourself. It is to be true to yourself. The Art of Living is learning to live with love, awareness and truth. Meditation is the way to learn The...

my love is a winter’s mistgently dissolvingthrough the windowat the nape of your neck.

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...

In ‘Winter’s Bone,’ it’s literally the director and the camera operator. That’s it. Just a super-small Kubrick crew. You know what I mean? Like, 8 people.

Every Autumn now my thoughts return to snow. Snow is something I identify myself with. Like my father, I am a snow person.

I just made some ice cream soup—for winter, or the next time you visit Antarctica. It’s freezable and reheatable, like my love.

Oh, how magical it will be to have winter come every year.

Are ye the ghosts of fallen leaves, O flakes of snow, For which, through naked trees, the winds A-mourning go?

A few feathery flakes are scattered widely through the air, and hover downward with uncertain flight, now almost alighting on the earth, now whirled again aloft into remote regions of the atmosphere.

Love for the beauty of the soul. I shall love you always. When the flower of life has gone, ever I shall find you. When all is lost and winter comes, I shall be your...

I don’t want perfect because it doesn’t exist in any species.

Autumn is a cunning muse who steals by degrees my warmth and light. So distracted by her glorious painting of colors, I scarcely realize my losses until the last fiery leaf has fallen to the...

Winter in Maine is a time of alternating rest and frenzied activity.

Even the strongest blizzards start with a single snowflake.

On harsh, frigid January days, when the winds are relentless and the snow piles up around us, I often think of our small feathered friends back on the Third Line. I wonder if the old...

I’m not sure.

I love you.”She lost all concept of time. She lost her place and surroundings. She couldn’t remember who he was—who she was. She lost her mind.

I put a basketball hoop in the trees, to help the squirrels and give them a nice net to store their nuts for the winter. But that’s just the kind of thoughtful guy I am.

Nothing burns like the cold. But only for a while. Then it gets inside you and starts to fill you up, and after a while you don’t have the strength to fight it.

March came in that winter like the meekest and mildest of lambs, bringing days that were crisp and golden and tingling, each followed by a frosty pink twilight which gradually lost itself in an elfland...

It looks like something out of Whittier’s “Snowbound,”‘ Julia said. Julia could always think of things like that to say.

There it was again, the prickling sense of standing on a precipice.

December’s wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer’s memory…

He ever offer to walk you home?””I’ve never asked,” Cath said quickly. “I’ve never asked you either.””That’s true,” Levi said.More quiet. More cold.The air stung Cath’s throat when she finally spoke again. “So maybe you...

I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

I waited for the seasons of love to pass from this cold winter to the summer heat I dreamed of.

As the trees turned red, then white, then naked as pitchforks, Margot and Xiao Chen immersed themselves in several forests’ worth of pages, and I watched, tortured, as brick after brick of a new development...

There are only two seasons – winter and Baseball.

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

Wolf Star shines on wintry high;Gazing northward by and by.Ice and snow on shorelines lie;Wind and spirits haunt the sky.

A tree has leaves like man has hair. Some men go winter in the summer, and other men, like me, like skiing on skin.

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.

Winter then in its early and clear stages, was a purifying engine that ran unhindered over city and country, alerting the stars to sparkle violently and shower their silver light into the arms of bare...

Other flowers came at the end of the summer, but by then the winter sadness had already dissipated, and the effect of the blooms was not the same.

The rapid nightfall of mid-December had quite beset the little village as they approached it on soft feet over a first thin fall of powdery snow. Little was visible but squares of a dusky orange-red...

It’s not the winter that bothers me – it’s the summers.

you make autumn misttaste like champagne and turn winter raininto the elixir of life itself.

Hair is gray and the firers are burning. So many dreams on the shelf. You say I wanted you to be proud of me. I always wanted that myself.

Zac dangled his legs off the edge of the building, hanging onto every word I said as though I were some old time bard telling an epic war tale. I tried to be as detailed...

Ah for pittie, wil ranke Winters rage,These bitter blasts neuer ginne tasswage?The keene cold blowes throug my beaten hyde,All as I were through the body gryde.My ragged rontes all shiver and shake,As doen high Towers...