As chaste as unsunned snow.
Snow falling soundlessly in the middle of the night will always fill my heart with sweet clarity
The Eskimos had fifty-two names for snow because it was important to them: there ought to be as many for love.
One of the very best reasons for having children is to be reminded of the incomparable joys of a snow day.
Take long walks in stormy weather or through deep snows in the fields and woods, if you would keep your spirits up. Deal with brute nature. Be cold and hungry and weary.
Snowing is an attempt of God to make the dirty world look clean.
If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end. The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed In a tumultuous privacy of storm.
A snow day literally and figuratively falls from the sky, unbidden, and seems like a thing of wonder.
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.
How did it happen that their lips came together? How does it happen that birds sing, that snow melts, that the rose unfolds, that the dawn whitens behind the stark shapes of trees on the quivering summit of the hill? A kiss, and all was said.
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 no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.
Look up at the miracle of the falling snow,—the air a dizzy maze of whirling, eddying flakes, noiselessly transforming the world, the exquisite crystals dropping in ditch and gutter, and disguising in the same suit of spotless livery all objects upon which they fall.
Spring, summer, and fall fill us with hope; winter alone reminds us of the human condition.
It is always easier to capture eternity in the falling snow or along the coast where the waves crash and in solitary and lonely places. It is the quiet places where it is easiest to feel eternity.
Even in winter an isolated patch of snow has a special quality.
Corruption is like a ball of snow, once it's set a rolling it must increase.
The sensation reminds him of the first snow of winter, for those first few hours when everything is blanketed in white, soft and quiet.
Only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.
The snow itself is lonely or, if you prefer, self-sufficient. There is no other time when the whole world seems composed of one thing and one thing only.
Don’t complain about the snow on your neighbor’s roof when your own doorstep is unclean.
A snowball in the face is surely the perfect beginning to a lasting friendship.
Where's the snow That fell the year that's fled--where's the snow?
Skiing consists of wearing $3,000 worth of clothes and equipment and driving 200 miles in the snow in order to stand around at a bar and drink.
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