All Quotes By Tag: Winter

“It seemed my wholelife was composed of these disjointedfractions of time, hanging around in onepublic place and then another, as if I werewaiting for trains that never came. And, likeone of those ghosts who are said to lingeraround depots late at night, askingpassersby for the timetable of the MidnightExpress that derailed twenty years before, Iwandered from light to light until thatdreaded hour when all the doors closed and,stepping from the world of warmth andpeople and conversation overheard, I feltthe old familiar cold twist through my bonesagain and then it was all forgotten, thewarmth, the lights; I had never been warmin my life, ever.”

“Trust is not a gasoline-soaked blanket that succumbs to the matches of betrayal, never able to be used for its warmth again; it’s a tapestry that wears thin in places, but can be patched over if you have the right materials, circumstances, and patience to repair it. If you don’t, you’re always the one who feels the coldest when winter comes.”

“If you can smile like a flower in the deep darkness of winter, spring is always there.”

“Zero HoldingI grow to like the baretrees and the snow, the bones and furof winter. Even the greynessof the nunneries, they are so grey,walled all around with grey stones—and the snow piled up on ledgesof wall and sill, those greyplanes for holding snow: this is howit will be, months now, all so still,sunk in itself, only the cold alive,vibrant, like a wire—and all thebusy chimneys—their ghost-breath,a rumour of lives warmed within,rising, rising, and blowing away.”

“Following dark winter’s strife, a warm air rises, teemed with life. Birth, rebirth, as the waiting die. Old love, new love sprouts wings to fly.”

“I fall asleepCall it deep while all is well be-Cause my life seems like a freestyle mean-While asleep on the couch I dream it’s a written piece and nowThe symphony’s soundingShouting out to these feet whose leaps feel foul but quite loudBut howI’m allowed to live my dreamsMy Chimeran team brings the Siberian breedRiding reality free ’til these tires they freezeIn mires in dire need of wires, fire and heat butI love a dark, hard cold heart in the wintery breeze”

“WINTER’S GHOST:Autumn moonincautious in the dark riverWinter’s ghost walkswith a covered faceand silver bones wait in all animalsto be bone cloth upon her shoulderwait for her happiness in that they are silver”

“Everybody was dying, or already dead, or leaving other people, and the year was dying into winter, and the only thing to do was make some noise.”

“If Springtime crawls out of thewild mouths of flowers, thensurely, Winter crawls out of mine.”

“L.A. kills people.’ Jacaranda said. ‘You’re lucky you’re leaving. You’ll be able to write.’She looked paler, going through another depression, smoking in bed in her lilac room. The walls were the color of her veins. She was getting too thin, even for the modeling. . .Jacaranda died last winter when the flowering trees were bare. You couldn’t even tell which ones once cried the purple blossoms she named herself after.”

“The snow filled the air with a soft grey-blue mist, softening the wind and gunfire, bringing the earth and sky together into one swaying blur.The snow fell on Bach’s shoulders; it was as though flakes of silence were falling on the still Volga, on the dead city, on the skeletons of horses. It was snowing everywhere, on earth and on the stars; the whole universe was full of snow. Everything was disappearing beneath it: guns, the bodies of the dead, filthy dressings, rubble, scraps of twisted iron.This soft, white snow settling over the carnage of the city was time itself; the present was turning into the past, and there was no future.”

“All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair—The bees are stirring—birds are on the wing—And Winter, slumbering in the open air,Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing,Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!With lips unbrighten’d, wreathless brow, I stroll:And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,And Hope without an object cannot live.- Work without Hope”

“But within the winter, a spring is promised and prepared for”

“We cry from pain, from loss, and from loneliness, but mostly we cry because we still have hope, and because we can still find joy even on the darkest and coldest of winter nights.”

“In the deep-freezing winter, let us sing heart touching songs of love to invite the blooming spring and amazing summer. Wishing you a warm-loving winter morning!”