Colored lights blink on and off, racing across the green boughs. Their reflections dance across exquisite glass globes and splinter into shards against tinsel thread and garlands of metallic filaments that disappear underneath the other...

In reality, Little Ones, there are two winters. One made for kids; the other for adults. The one made for adults is always too cold and always too long. The one made for kids is...

You made a deal with your heart, your soul, and your body, and you sealed it with the wash of your climax on my c*ck.”She blinked, looking dazed. He’d never used such words before, especially...

It’s December in Florida, and there are still a few leaves clinging on the branches for dear summer.

In winter night Massachusetts Street is dismal, the ground’s frozen cold, the ruts and pock holes have ice, thin snow slides over the jagged black cracks. The river is frozen to stolidity, waits; hung on...

Music brings a warm glow to my vision, thawing mind and muscle from their endless wintering.

To survive the Canadian winter, one needs a body of brass, eyes of glass, and blood made of brandy.

Everybody was dying, or already dead, or leaving other people, and the year was dying into winter, and the only thing to do was make some noise.

I’m a cat, aren’t I?

It is in the coldest months that hugs linger snug, and they warm the soul the most.

In this part of the world, only Maine gives winter the welcome and the worship it should have.

The summer in youcalms the winter in me.

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...

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?

…the kind of weather that reminds you after a long winter that while the world wasn’t built for humans, we were built for the world. t

The wastes of snow on the hill were ghostly in the moonlight. The stars were piercingly bright.

The first snow is like the first love. Do you remember your first snow?

…I pray this winter be gentle and kind – a season of rest from the wheel of the mind…

Winter is not a season in the North Middlewest; it is an industry.

NEW HAIKUOne breathy vowelmists the glass warming windowpanes crystalled with snowRobin Glasser

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...

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.

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...

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.

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.

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.