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Winter Quotes

Browse 2200 quotes about Winter.

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Winter Quotes

“Cathedral of Light by Stewart Stafford The wintry grey forest branches, Embrace freezing fog as build, Backlit by the pushy noon sun, Revealing a cathedral of light. An air frost of transient structure, Reprieve from a hangman's bloom, Naked limbs greeted the icy cover, The looming cape of ersatz foliage. Tongues of wind scatter the pop-up, Six sheep in a straight line saw it off, A still and sunny afternoon followed, Frozen matinee fades another day. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”

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Author:Stewart Stafford
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“There is something joyful about storms, that interrupt routine. Snow or freezing rain suddenly releases you from expectations, performance demands, and the tyranny of appointments and schedules. And unlike illness, it is largely a corporate, rather than individual experience. One could almost hear a unified sigh rise from the nearby city and surrounding countryside, where nature has intervened to give respite to the weary humans slogging it out within her purview. All those affected this way are united by a mutual excuse, and the heart is suddenly, and unexpectedly, a little giddy. There will be no apologies needed for not showing up to some commitment or other. Everyone understands and shares in this singular justification, and the sudden alleviation of the pressure to produce makes the heart merry. ... Even if it's hardly more than a day or two, somehow each person feels like the master of his or her own world, simply because those little droplets of water freeze as they hit the ground. Even commonplace activities become extraordinary. Routine choices become adventures and are often experienced with a sense of heightened clarity.”

JoyAdventureWinterSnowStormsSnowed In
Author:Wm. Paul Young
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“Opposites Attack by Stewart Stafford Winter's eagle talons swoop, Scratching sweet faces raw, As battering waves file back, The coast's jagged teeth further. Concerts of hedgerow angels, Storm the dreaded demon field, Dispensing ancient retribution, Righting wrongs along the way. Gladiatorial combat in the Heavens, Lightning's fiery net crashes against, Thunder's convulsing cloaking shield, And the rainstorm's flogging garlands. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

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Author:Stewart Stafford
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“Ree Dolly stood at the break of day on her cold front steps and smelled coming flurries and saw meat. Meat hung from trees across the creek. Carcasses hung pale of flesh with fatty gleam from low limbs of saplings in the side yards. Three halt haggard houses formed a kneeling rank on the far creekside and each had two or more skinned torsos dangling by rope from sagged limbs, venison left to the weather for two nights and three days so the early blossoming of decay might round the flavor, sweeten that meat to the bone.”

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Book:Winter's Bone
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“Now the twin leaves of the seedling chestnut oak on the Carvin's cover path have dried, dropped, and blown; the acorn itself is shrunk and sere. But the sheath of the stem holds water and the white root still delicately sucks, porous and permeable, mute. The death of the self of which the great writers speak is no violent act. It is merely the joining of the great rock heart of the earth in its roll. It is merely the slow cessation of the will's sprints and the intellect's chatter: it is waiting like a hollow bell with stilled tongue. Fuge, tace, quiesce. The waiting itself is the thing.”

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Book:PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK
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“It seemed my whole life was composed of these disjointed fractions of time, hanging around in one public place and then another, as if I were waiting for trains that never came. And, like one of those ghosts who are said to linger around depots late at night, asking passersby for the timetable of the Midnight Express that derailed twenty years before, I wandered from light to light until that dreaded hour when all the doors closed and, stepping from the world of warmth and people and conversation overheard, I felt the old familiar cold twist through my bones again and then it was all forgotten, the warmth, the lights; I had never been warm in my life, ever.”

TimeWinterSimile
Book:The Secret History
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“Jacin’s fingers curled around his knife. It was torture. Jacin looked more afraid than when he’s stood on trial. More afraid than when his torso had been stripped raw from the lashings. This was the last time she would ever see him. This was her last moment. Her last breath. Suddenly, all of the politics and all of the games stopped mattering. Suddenly, she felt daring. “Jacin,” she said, with a shaky smile. “You must know. I cannot remember a time when I didn’t love you. I don’t think such a time ever existed.” His eyes filled with a thousand emotions. But before he could say whatever he would say, before he could kill her, Winter grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and kissed him. He thawed much quicker than shed expected. Almost instantly, like he’d been waiting for this moment, he grabbed her hips and pulled her against him with a possessiveness that overwhelmed her. His lips were desperate and starved as he leaned into the kiss, pressing her against the rail. She gasped, and he deepened the kiss, threading one hand into the hair at the nape of her neck. Her head swam, muddles with heat and a lifetime of desire. Jacin’s other hand abandoned her hip. She heard the ring of steel as the knife was pulled from its scabbard. Winter shuddered and kissed him harder, filling it with every fantasy she’d ever had. Jacin’s hand slipped out of her hair. His arm encircled her. He held her against him like he couldn’t get close enough. Like he meant to absorb her body into his. Releasing his shirt, Winter found his neck, his jaw. She felt the tips of his hair on her thumbs. He made a noise and she couldn’t tell if it was desire or pain or regret or a mix of everything. His arm tensed against her back. His weight shifted as he raised the knife.”

LoveWinterOtpJacinJacin And WinterThe Lunar ChroniclesroniclesWinter And Jacin
Book:Winter
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“Jack Frost hibernates from March to November, dreaming snowflake designs to share in December. With glittering breath, snowstorms, and blue blizzards, lakes made of crystal, he’s an icy wizard! People assume winter will be harsh, cold, and cruel and that Jack must be a wicked, cold-weather ghoul. But he’s truly an artist, known as Bringer of Ice, and although his heart is cold, he’s really quite nice.”

WinterSnowChristmasAutumnJack Frost
Book:Lucy Lick-Me-Not and the Greedy Gubbins: A Christmas Story
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“Each February/March the entire country takes a "ski week". The schools shut down, parents take off work, dogs go to the in-laws, and Finland's middle and upper classes go on holiday. But not all at once. They can't have the entire country gandala-ing up to Lapland at one time (AVALANCHES!). So the country takes turns. The best region goes first: Southern Finland. Then the second best: Central Finland. Then the reindeer herders and forest people take a week off from unemployment and go last: Northern Finland.”

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Book:How to Marry a Finnish Girl
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“Mindfulness is simply being in the moment. and witnessing the spinning of life. It is resting in the moment and noticing how the autumn leaves fall, knowing it is time to leave, and yet doing nothing. Mindfulness is witnessing how the trees stand bare in winter, and yet remaining still. It is noticing how the seasons come and go, leaving their footprints, yet remaining unperturbed inside, sensing the still deep observer.”

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Author:Jayita Bhattacharjee
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“Long past the first official day of spring on the calendar, old man winter slowly loosened his icy grip on the Lanark County farmlands. We waited and watched for the tell-tale signs, hoping that the mercury in the old thermometer would being to move in the right direction. Even as the sap began to drip slowly from our beloved maple trees, the bitter winds blew relentlessly from the north.”

WindWinterSapCold WeatherThermometersMaple SyrupArlene Stafford WilsonLanark CountyMaple Trees
Book:Lanark County Calling: All Roads Lead Home
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“And what is your name?" Caroline asked him. He smiled up at her, a little impishly. "I guess Bianca's name for me will work. Call me Bear." "Bear?" Caroline repeated, doubtfully. "I think it would be best right now," he said simply. "For all of us." "You aren't running from anything?" she asked directly. "No, I guess you could say something is running from me. The law would be on my side, ma'am, if I could get them involved. For now, I'm doing all I can.”

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Book:Our Christmas Bear
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“Just wanted to hold you.” His voice loomed somewhere over my head as my eyes started to close. “And say I’m really fucking sor—” “What?” I asked, giving out and falling into him. “I can’t understand you.” “Don’t let me go,” he whispered in my ear. “Don’t let go.” “I’m gonna…” My mouth was so dry. “I’m gonna send you to jail.” His lips rested against my cheek, and I thought I felt his body shake with a silent sob. But as I fell into sleep and oblivion, his words were sharp and clear in my ear. “Then you better hope I never get out.”

WinterDamon Torrance
Book:Kill Switch
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“After a few seconds, he cleared his throat. “I was Winter’s first kiss, ladies,” he told everyone, despite that we had another guy at our table. “I was eleven. She was eight.” I felt him nudge closer, and his voice dropped a hair. “I wonder how many guys have kissed you since. But then, I guess I don’t really care, because I was first, and that’s all that matters.” I balled my skirt in my fists. I wanted him to go away. “Don’t think for a second that you were any good at it, either,” I replied. “And don’t think I’m going to go easy on you just because you’d trip over a speck of dust if someone wasn’t holding your hand to walk ten steps.”

WinterDamon Torrance
Book:Kill Switch
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“Your parents are bad,” he explained. “Your sister lacks any depth to be interesting, and I hate my house. It’s so dark there.” He paused, then continued. “It all fucking disappeared when you were dancing, though. It made the world prettier. I liked it.” “So, what?” I argued. “You wanna lock me in your basement to dance for you on command? Is that it?” But instead of the creepy, monotone, and calm response I’d been getting, his chest shook with a quiet laugh. “Can I hide there with you?” he asked.”

WinterDamon Torrance
Book:Kill Switch
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“Don’t bother, Mr. Kincaid,” I muttered. “I’m leaving the school.” “The fuck you are,” Damon growled. And then to Mr. Kincaid, “It was just a disagreement. I’ll leave her alone. You have my word.” “Your word…” he mocked. “I don’t lie,” Damon said, anger hardening his voice. “She’ll be fine. I swear. I won’t even look at her for the rest of the year, as long as I’m at this school and under your care. I promise.” He evened out his tone. “The basketball team goes on, she can stay, and we’ll pretend this never happened. Her father doesn’t have to know.” And then to me, “Right?”

WinterDamon Torrance
Book:Kill Switch
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“I don’t know,” she muttered, looking uncertain. “Let’s just leave.” “You want to dance?” I prodded. “I’ll get you anything you want.” “How are you going to do that?” “I get anything I want,” I stated quite plainly. She laughed under her breath, probably thinking I was joking, and I went weak for a moment, the light in her eyes the most beautiful thing I’d seen in a long time.”

WinterDamon Torrance
Book:Kill Switch
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“Arion, can you help me find the snow village in the basement?” Snow village? That voice. I closed my eyes, the little hairs on my neck rising. Winter. She was home, after all. “What? Now?” Arion whined. “Have Mom help you when she gets back.” Get the fuck out of the pool and get her what she wants. “I don’t know why you want it.” Arion took my beer again. “It’s not even Halloween yet, and you can’t see the damn thing anyway. What’s the point?” Bitch.”

WinterDamon Torrance
Book:Kill Switch
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“Ah! comme la neige a neigé! Ma vitre est un jardin de givre. Ah! comme la neige a neigé! Qu'est-ce que le spasme de vivre À la douleur que j'ai, que j'ai! Tous les étangs gisent gelés, Mon âme est noire: Où vis-je? Où vais-je? Tous ses espoirs gisent gelés: Je suis la nouvelle Norvège D'où les blonds ciels s'en sont allés. Pleurez, oiseaux de février, Au sinistre frisson des choses, Pleurez, oiseaux de février, Pleurez mes pleurs, pleurez mes roses, Aux branches du genévrier. Ah! comme la neige a neigé! Ma vitre est un jardin de givre. Ah! comme la neige a neigé! Qu'est-ce que le spasme de vivre À tout l'ennui que j'ai, que j'ai!...”

WinterFebruaryHiverFévrier
Author:Émile Nelligan Soir d'hiver
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“Summer is more wooing and seductive, more versatile and human, appeals to the affections and the sentiments, and fosters inquiry and the art impulse. Winter is of a more heroic cast, and addresses the intellect. The severe studies and disciplines come easier in winter. One imposes larger tasks upon himself, and is less tolerant of his own weaknesses...The simplicity of winter has a deep moral. The return of nature, after such a career of splendor and prodigality, to habits so simple and austere, is not lost either upon the head or the heart. It is the philosopher coming back from the banquet and the wine to a cup of water and a crust of bread.”

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Author:John Burroughs
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“You can pull people to your own winter and freeze them up or you can take your sun to people’s own winter and warm them up! It is up to you to bring hell or heaven to people’s life!”

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Author:Mehmet Murat Ildan
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