No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.
Never cut a tree down in the wintertime. Never make a negative decision in the low time. Never make your most important decisions when you are in your worst moods. Wait. Be patient. The storm will pass. The spring will come.
If we had not winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.
In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.
If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.
Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face.
Melancholy were the sounds on a winter's night.
One may prefer spring and summer to autumn and winter, but preference is hardly to the point. The earth turns, and we live in the grain of nature, turning with it.
Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart.
Winter is not a season, it's an occupation.
Let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius.
On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence.
Only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.
The cold was our pride, the snow was our beauty. It fell and fell, lacing day and night together in a milky haze, making everything quieter as it fell, so that winter seemed to partake of religion in a way no other season did, hushed, solemn.
People ask me what I do in winter when there's no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.
The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches.
There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you.... In spring, summer and fall people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.
A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water.
The problem with winter sports is that - follow me closely here - they generally take place in winter.
A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things.
Grace grows best in winter.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind, As man's ingratitude.
Most calves and fawns will soon die. Only the luckiest and fittest will survive. Therefore either hunters or Mother Nature can take them. The logical harvesting strategy is to take calves or fawns during the fall hunting seasons, before winter can waste them.
The Arctic is a highway. The tree limit, the scarcity of trees, freed people to walk. Particularly in the wintertime. Which connected people physically, communicatively. And mythically. The long nights of winter free people to tell. And to listen…
What fire could ever equal the sunshine of a winter's day?
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