Winter Quotes - Page 18

• Go back,” he said. “Can’t. Stand aside?” “Can’t.” “So it’s like that?” I said. Fix exhaled. Then he nodded. “Yeah.” And for the first time in a decade the Winter Knight and Summer Knight went to war.

  Jim Butcher

  Summer, War, Knights

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• He seemed a part of the mute melancholy landscape, an incarnation of it's frozen woe, with all that was warm and sentient in him fast bound below the surface; but there was nothing nothing unfriendly in his silence. I simply felt that he lived in a depth of moral isolation too remote for casual access, and I had the sense that his loneliness was not merely the result of his personal plight, tragic as I guessed that to be, but had in it, as Harmon Gow had hinted, the profound accumulated cold of many Starkfield winters.

  Edith Wharton

  Loneliness, Profound, Silence

  Ethan Frome preface (1911)

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• The other side of midnight’s hour strikes a herald thrice rung Seer, Shadow, Sun—together they come Sixteen winters hence—the light shall be eclipsed Leaving darkness to ascend beneath a sky bleeding fire

  Alyson Noel

  Fire, Light, Sky

  Alyson Noel (2013). “Mystic”, p.48, Pan Macmillan

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• Let the fairy tale begin on a winter's morning, then, with one drop of blood newly-fallen on the ivory snow: a drop as bright as a clear-cut ruby, red as a single spot of claret on the lace cuff.

  Ellen Kushner

  Morning, Cutting, Blood

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• Reminded of favorite poem by Wendy Cope which goes: At Christmas little children sing and merry bells jingle. The cold winter air makes our hands and faces tingle. And happy families go to church and cheerily they mingle, And the whole business is unbelievably dreadful if you're single.

  Helen Fielding

  Children, Air, Hands

  Helen Fielding (2016). “Bridget Jones's Diary: Picador Classic”, p.177, Pan Macmillan

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• Love isn't always magic. But if I offered my body to the magician, if I told him to cut me in half so after that I could come to you whole and ask for you back would you listen for this dark alley love song? For the winter we heated our home from the steam off our own bodies?

  Andrea Gibson

  Song, Home, Cutting

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• We feel cold, but we don't mind it, because we will not come to harm. And if we wrapped up against the cold, we wouldn't feel other things, like the bright tingle of the stars, or the music of the aurora, or best of all the silky feeling of moonlight on our skin. It's worth being cold for that.

  Philip Pullman

  Stars, Feelings, Mind

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• She died on a windy gray day in March when the sky was full of darting crows and the world lay prostrate and defeated after winter. Peter Lake was at her side and it ruined him forever. It broke him as he had not ever imagined he could have been broken. He would never again be young, or able to remember what it was like to be young. What he had once taken to be pleasures would appear to him in his defeat as hideous and deserved punishments for reckless vanity.

  Mark Helprin

  Taken, Lakes, Vanity

  Mark Helprin (1989). “Winter's Tale”, Pocket Books

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• As he looked up at the clouds or down at the precipice, he realized that this woman was the most important thing in his life; that she was the explanation, the sole reason for the existence of those rocks, that sky, that winter. If she were not there with him, it wouldn't matter if all the angels of heaven came flying down to comfort him--Paradise would make no sense.

  Paulo Coelho

  Angel, Clouds, Rocks

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• Generations of men are like the leaves. In winter, winds blow them down to earth, but then, when spring season comes again, the budding wood grows more. And so with men: one generation grows, another dies away.

  Homer

  Spring, Blow, Men

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• You look like a winter night", he had told her when he had given it to her. "I could sleep inside the cold of you".

  Catherynne M. Valente

  Sleep, Night, Looks

  Catherynne M. Valente (2011). “Deathless”, p.200, Macmillan

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• The sparrow flies south for the winter.

  Derek Landy

  Sparrows, Skulduggery Pleasant, South

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• My dear, In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love. In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile. In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm. I realized, through it all, that… In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer. And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back. Truly yours, Albert Camus

  Albert Camus

  Summer, Wisdom, Hate

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• And somewhat as in blind night, on a mild sea, a sailor may be made aware of an iceberg, fanged and mortal, bearing invisibly near, by the unwarned charm of its breath, nothingness now revealed itself: that permanent night upon which the stars in their expiring generations are less than the glinting of gnats, and nebulae, more trivial than winter breath; that darkness in which eternity lies bent and pale, a dead snake in a jar, and infinity is the sparkling of a wren blown out to sea; that inconceivable chasm of invulnerable silence in which cataclysms of galaxies rave mute as amber.

  James Agee

  Stars, Lying, Night

  James Agee (2008). “A Death in the Family”, p.66, Penguin

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• I don’t mind if you don’t like my manners. They’re pretty bad. I grieve over them during the long winter evenings.

  Raymond Chandler

  Grieving, Long, Mind

  The Big Sleep ch. 3 (1939)

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• Spring, if it lingers more than a week beyond its span, starts to hunger for summer to end the days of perpetual promise. Summer in its turn soon begins to sweat for something to quench its heat, and the mellowest of autumns will tire of gentility at last, and ache for a quick sharp frost to kill its fruitfulness. Even winter — the hardest season, the most implacable — dreams, as February creeps on, of the flame that will presently melt it away. Everything tires with time, and starts to seek some opposition, to save it from itself.

  Clive Barker

  Summer, Dream, Spring

  Clive Barker (1991). “The Hellbound Heart”, Voyager

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• I think he just gets like this sometimes. Like he needs to pull away. I think of it like winter. During winter, it isn't that the sun is gone (or cheating on you with another planet). You can still see it in the sky. It's just farther away.

  Rainbow Rowell

  Cheating, Thinking, Sky

  Rainbow Rowell (2011). “Attachments”, p.100, Hachette UK

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• Nico di Angelo came into Olympus to a hero's welcome, his father right behind him, despite the fact that Hades was only supposed to visit Olympus in winter solstice. The God of the dead looked stunned when his relatives clapped him on the back. I doubt he'd ever got such an enthusiastic welcome before.

  Rick Riordan

  Father, Hero, Doubt

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• Especially when the October wind With frosty fingers punishes my hair, Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire And cast a shadow crab upon the land, By the sea's side, hearing the noise of birds, Hearing the raven cough in winter sticks, My busy heart who shudders as she talks Sheds the syllabic blood and drains her words.

  Dylan Thomas

  Heart, Fire, Hair

  Dylan Thomas, Daniel Jones (2003). “The Poems of Dylan Thomas”, p.116, New Directions Publishing

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• During a warm winter rain ... the basins of her collarbones collected water.

  Jeffrey Eugenides

  Rain, Water, Virgin Suicides

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• People look down on stuff like geography and meteorology, and not only because they're standing on one and being soaked by the other. They don't look quite like real science. But geography is only physics slowed down and with a few trees stuck on it, and meteorology is full of excitingly fashionable chaos and complexity. And summer isn't a time. It's a place as well. Summer is a moving creature and likes to go south for the winter.

  Terry Pratchett

  Summer, Real, Moving

  Terry Pratchett (1996). “Feet of Clay: A Novel of Discworld”, Harper Prism

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• Winter changes into stone the water of heaven and the heart of man.

  Victor Hugo

  Heart, Men, Water

  Victor Hugo, Sir Lascelles Wraxall (1862). “Les Misérables”, p.155

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• Love is . . .” An old memory with Adrian came back to me, and some of the turbulent emotion I always carried within me these days welled up in my chest. It was stupid, feeling so lovesick when he’d been gone less than a day, but I couldn’t get him or the ways he described love out of my head. “. . . a flame in the dark. A breath of warmth on a winter’s night. A star that guides you home.

  Richelle Mead

  Stars, Memories, Stupid

  Richelle Mead (2013). “The Fiery Heart: A Bloodlines Novel”, p.77, Penguin

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

  Cassandra Clare

  Wine, London, Snowflake

  Cassandra Clare (2014). “Clockwork Princess”, p.540, Simon and Schuster

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• In your hands winter is a book with cloud pages that snow pearls of love.

  Aberjhani

  Book, Clouds, Hands

  Aberjhani (2010). “The River of Winged Dreams”, p.45, Lulu.com

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