If I had my way, I'd remove January from the calendar altogether and have an extra July instead.
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.
I like these cold, gray winter days. Days like these let you savor a bad mood.
January is the month for dreaming.
We spend January 1st walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives...not looking for flaws, but for potential.
To read a poem in January is as lovely as to go for a walk in June
January is my favorite month, when the light is plainest, least colored. And I like the feeling of beginnings.
Come, ye cold winds, at January's call, On whistling wings, and with white flakes bestrew The earth.
Pale January lay In its cradle day by day Dead or living, hard to say.
Winter dawn is the color of metal, The trees stiffen into place like burnt nerves.
Every man should be born again on the first day of January. Start with a fresh page. Take up one hole more in the buckle if necessary, or let down one, according to circumstances; but on the first of January let every man gird himself once more, with his face to the front, and take no interest in the things that were and are past.
Every man should be born again on the first day of January. Start with a fresh page
There are two seasonal diversions that can ease the bite of any winter. One is the January thaw. The other is the seed catalogues.
January brings the snow, makes our feet and fingers glow.
January is here, with eyes that keenly glow, A frost-mailed warrior striding a shadowy steed of snow.
Dandelion wine. The words were summer on the tongue. The wine was summer caught and stoppered...sealed away for opening on a January day with snow falling fast and the sun unseen for weeks.
Today expect something good to happen to you no matter what occurred yesterday. Realize the past no longer holds you captive. It can only continue to hurt you if you hold on to it. Let the past go. A simply abundant world awaits.
It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.
No one ever regarded the first of January with indifference.
Through the chill of December the early winter moans... but it's that January wind that rattles old bones.
If January is the month of change, February is the month of lasting change. January is for dreamers... February is for doers -
January, month of empty pockets! let us endure this evil month, anxious as a theatrical producer's forehead.
It snowed and snowed, the whole world over, Snow swept the world from end to end. A candle burned on the table; A candle burned.
The twelve months... Snowy, Flowy, Blowy, Showery, Flowery, Bowery, Hoppy, Croppy, Droppy, Breeze, Sneezy, Freezy.
January gray is here, like a sexton by her grave; February bears the bier, march with grief doth howl and rave, and April weeps -- but, O ye hours! Follow with May's fairest flowers.
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