He who marvels at the beauty of the world in summer will find equal cause for wonder and admiration in winter.
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.
A cold wind was blowing from the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things.
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.
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.
Let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius.
In winter the stars seem to have rekindled their fires, the moon achieves a fuller triumph, and the heavens wear a look of a more exalted simplicity.
Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face.
People don't notice whether it's winter or summer when they're happy.
What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.
Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.
Only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.
If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.
I like these cold, gray winter days. Days like these let you savor a bad mood.
The tendinous part of the mind, so to speak, is more developed in winter; the fleshy, in summer. I should say winter had given the bone and sinew to literature, summer the tissues and the blood.
Every winter, When the great sun has turned his face away, The earth goes down into a vale of grief, And fasts, and weeps, and shrouds herself in sables, Leaving her wedding-garlands to decay- Then leaps in spring to his returning kisses.
Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories.
Autumn arrives in early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.
I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape. Something waits beneath it; the whole story doesn't show.
It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
What a severe yet master artist old Winter is... No longer the canvas and the pigments, but the marble and the chisel.
Nature has many scenes to exhibit, and constantly draws a curtain over this part or that. She is constantly repainting the landscape and all surfaces, dressing up some scene for our entertainment. Lately we had a leafy wilderness; now bare twigs begin to prevail, and soon she will surprise us with a mantle of snow. Some green she thinks so good for our eyes that, like blue, she never banishes it entirely from our eyes, but has created evergreens.
And there is quite a different sort of conversation around a fire than there is in the shadow of a beech tree.... Four dry logs have in them all the circumstance necessary to a conversation of four or five hours, with chestnuts on the plate and a jug of wine between the legs. Yes, let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius.
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