No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.
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.
Even in winter an isolated patch of snow has a special quality.
Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face.
If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.
Sometimes our fate resembles a fruit tree in winter. Who would think that those branches would turn green again and blossom, but we hope it, we know it.
"Hear! hear!" screamed the jay from a neighboring tree, where I had heard a tittering for some time, "winter has a concentrated and nutty kernel, if you know where to look for it."
If the October days were a cordial like the sub-acids of fruit, these are a tonic like the wine of iron. Drink deep or be careful how you taste this December vintage. The first sip may chill, but a full draught warms and invigorates.
The days are short,
The sun a spark
Hung thin between
The dark and dark.
Even in winter, the cold isn't always bitter, and not every day is cruel.
What fire could ever equal the sunshine of a winter's day?
I like these cold, gray winter days. Days like these let you savor a bad mood.
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 sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.
It is the life of the crystal, the architect of the flake, the fire of the frost, the soul of the sunbeam. This crisp winter air is full of it.
Winter is not a season, it's a celebration.
I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn't show.
As white snowflakes fall quietly and thickly on a winter day, answers to prayer will settle down upon you at every step you take, even to your dying day. The story of your life will be the story of prayer and answers to prayer.
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
Only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.
Spring, summer, and fall fill us with hope; winter alone reminds us of the human condition.
Are the days of winter sunshine just as sad for you, too? When it is misty, in the evenings, and I am out walking by myself, it seems to me that the rain is falling through my heart and causing it to crumble into ruins.
The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches.
To see a hillside white with dogwood bloom is to know a particular ecstasy of beauty, but to walk the gray Winter woods and find the buds which will resurrect that beauty in another May is to partake of continuity.
Melancholy were the sounds on a winter's night.
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