Winter Quotes - Page 37

I had been in Chicago for 22 years, and my wife and I didn't want to see another Chicago winter. Its a wonderful town but the winters are brutal. My wife and I are both east coast people and we wanted to live someplace a little bit warmer but didn't want to live way down south. So Delaware seemed like a good compromise.

A winter without snow seems depressing, lacking.

The winter will be long and bleak. Nature has a dismal aspect.

The perfect winter's night for me would be with all the family together. As you get a little older and everybody has their jobs and then families and kids, it definitely becomes harder to get everybody together at once.

O brief, bright smile of summer! O days divine and dear The voices of winter's sorrow Already we can hear. And we know that the frosts will find us, And the smiling skies grow rude, While we look in the face of Beauty, And worship her every mood.

[...] He tasted like snowflakes and wine, like winter and Will and London.

With women, the best part is the discovery. There's nothing like the first time, nothing. You don't know what life is until you undress a woman for the first time. A button at a time, like peeling a hot sweet potato on a winter's night.

Daughter, I have now lived a hundred and nine winters in this world and have never yet met any such thing as Luck. There is something about all this that I do not understand: but if ever we need to know it, you may be sure that we shall.

If not for you, winter wouldn't hold no spring, couldn't hear a robin sing. I just wouldn't have a clue, if not for you.

I know climate change is a hoax – of course – but places that have never seen this type of winter weather got hit by it. More than a half a million southerners have been left in the dark --- and then the storm hit.

The thing one resents about winter is its inactivity; the perpetual sameness of ice-armored hills and snow-blanketed woods. Great things, of course, may be going on underneath; but nature wears a mask, is icily non-committal.

Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt, And cling to faith beyond the forms of faith; She reels not at the storm of warring words; She brightens at the clash of "Yes" and "No"; She sees the best that glimmers through the worst; She feels the sun is hid for the night; She spies the summer through the winter bud; She tastes the fruit before the blossom falls; She hears the lark within the songless egg; She finds the fountain where they wailed "Mirage!"

The government tells us we need flood control and comes to straighten the creek in our pasture. The engineer on the job tells us the creek is now able to carry off more flood water, but in the process we have lost our old willows where the owl hooted on a winter night and under which the cows switched flies in the noon shade. We lost the little marshy spot where our fringed gentians bloomed.

I had the heaviest paper round in Ilkley, West Yorks, and if you look at my shoulders one is still lower than the other. I also did a milk round for a day. It was awful. I was a very surly milkman, because it was very cold, very dark and very early. I am a lark, not an owl, but not in winter when it's chilly. Apart from that I went straight into gardening at 15.

It is reported from 'Ubayd ibn 'Umayr (radiAllahu anhu) that he said: "It used to be said when winter came: O people of the Qur`an, the night has become long so you can pray (more) and the day has become short for you to fast."

Watch the sun until it comes into your body and stays as a tiny sun. It will keep your face shining even in the coldest of winter.

He loves not well whose love is bold! I would not have thee come too nigh. The sun's gold would not seem pure gold Unless the sun were in the sky: To take him thence and chain him near Would make his beauty disappear. William Winter, Love's Queen. The unconquerable pang of despised love.

A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins.

Thou knowest, winter tames man, woman, and beast.

Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.

Out of time we cut 'days' and 'nights', 'summers' and 'winters.' We say what, each part of the sensible continuum is, and all these abstract whats are concepts. The intelletual life of man consists almost wholly in his substitution of a conceptual order for the persceptual order in which his experience originally comes.

I crown thee king of intimate delights, Fire-side enjoyments, home-born happiness, And all the comforts that the lowly roof Of undisturb'd retirement, and the hours Of long uninterrupted ev'ning, know.

O but we dreamed to mend Whatever mischief seemed To afflict mankind, but now That winds of winter blow Learn that we were crack-pated when we dreamed.

Winter is not an end. It is in transit. It is headed to bankruptcy. The sheriff will sell its stock for what he can get and an ice man will be the only bidder at the sale.

Frankly, the trouble with winter is, it is all backbone. It is fleshless, insensate, with neither a breast to be leaned on nor a heart to love and ache and, if need be, break, nor any kindly hand to fondle and caress like a sea-wave on a sunny shore half asleep.