There's something about the Pacific Northwest, the scale of it, and the fact that not so long ago people came here and died getting here, and then died the first winter they were here. There's this breathtaking beauty, just a little bit of moss on th...
My ideal meal varies, depending on the time of year. Lobster on a deck overlooking a beach at sunset is one - but all my kids have to be there, because they are all lobster-lovers. Making a bolognese sauce over pappardelle for my husband on a winter ...
When I came there I found all my family gone, for the Indians had killed five people in the winter near that place, which frightened my wife and family away to Roanoke about 35 miles nearer in among the inhabitants, which I was informed of by an old ...
Fall is my favorite my time of the year. I love it. I'll try and make it back to Vancouver a bunch. I love going back home for that. Everything turns orange. You start to get out of summer, start making your way into the winter, everyone is wearing j...
I've been fascinated by the Internet from the very start. In 2001, I had made a funny black-and-white film called 'How to Dance Properly,' a short video of me dancing to a Madonna song. I sent it to 17 of my friends on a Thursday, and by Monday, one ...
My friend, I am going to tell you the story of my life, as you wish; and if it were only the story of my life I think I would not tell it; for what is one man that he should make much of his winters, even when they bend him like a heavy snow?
This is the sort of thing we should say by the fireside in the winter-time, as we lie on soft couches after a good meal, drinking sweet wine and crunching chickpeas: "Of what country are you, and how old are you, good sir? And how old were you when t...
What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance. In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun. On the b...
Pale winter sun Is beatin' the ground Why'm I throwin' away The best thing that I've found My young heart's in tatters and I'm sure That it will be a long time healing It's so hard to see what I'm doing this for When loneliness is all that I'm feelin...
The Christian Bible is a symbolic book, not a literal one. The one Christians know as Jesus was actually a symbol for the sun. Ancient sun worshippers believed the sun died at the end of the winter solstice and then three days later it would be rebor...
a woman lives behind this door, and she writes with the door open to the night. she writes with the door open to the seasons, even winter, though perhaps less so then. there are birds who visit. right now she is having a drink with a friend; she clos...
Cold is not without its risks to runners, of course, especially ones who don't head south when winter visits their neighborhood. Even pooh-pooh-ers of frozen lungs and lovers of dark jogs over permafrost have been known to be careful about certain ha...
I go out and take oysters, clams and mussels every 2 weeks or so during late fall, winter and early spring. I particularly like to go out when there is a below-average ebb tide because that exposes clamming grounds and oysters that are usually under ...
When I'm drawing, I'm drawing with the light, being completely open and creative. I can't draw in the evening. I need light and I need warmth if it is a summer thing, and I need cold if it is a winter collection. The good thing is that I have houses ...
I lead a very active lifestyle. When I am not working, I enjoy snowboarding in winter. I golf and swim in the summer months. However, trying to find the time to exercise when I am traveling is quite a challenge. I find myself working out at hotel gym...
Old Man: Come in. You must be thirsty... You must excuse them. [Mentioning the hiding farmers in the town] Old Man: They are farmers here. They are afraid of everyone and everything. They are afraid of rain and no rain. The summer may be too hot, the...
[first lines] Michael Sullivan, Jr.: There are many stories about Michael Sullivan. Some say he was a decent man. Some say there was no good in him at all. But I once spent 6 weeks on the road with him, in the winter of 1931. This is our story.
Duncan: I wish I could stay here forever. Owen: You're going to love the winters. They're pretty spectacular. Painting houses until it gets too cold, bar backing at some dive, talking to inanimate objects.
Give winter nothing; hold; and let the flake Poise or dissolve along your upheld arms. All flawless hexagons may melt and break; While you must feel the summer's rage of fire, Beyond this frigid season's empty storms. Banished to bloom, and bear the ...
The hurt, resentment, the revenge, the pride, and regret are thrown hard and fast like snowballs in the winter. Some major ones hit hard; some minor ones just roll off, while others stick for an elongated time…as long as we stay in the cold frosty ...
The boys were going to a place that none had ever been before, to serve an order that had been the enemy of their kith and kin for thousands of years, yet Jon saw no tears, heard no wailing mothers. These are winter's people, [...] tears freeze upon ...
