You have food?" Winter scolded. "I thought you said you were hungry." I'm hungry for other things besides what I have," [Clover] argued.
There is lace in every living thing: the bare branches of winter, the patterns of clouds, the surface of water as it ripples in the breeze.... Even a wild dog's matted fur shows a lacy pattern if you look at it closely enough.
Winter is nature’s way of sitting on the sofa and not doing a damn thing. When love grows cold, maybe it’s just impersonating January.
There are adventures of the spirit and one can travel in books and interest oneself in people and affairs. One need never be dull as long as one has friends to help, gardens to enjoy and books in the long winter evenings.
These times are too progressive. Everything has changed too fast. Railroads and telegraphs and kerosene and coal stoves -- they're good to have but the trouble is, folks get to depend on 'em.
Before the autumn of our years, there exists a time when we struggle to reconcile what we are with what we wish to be. This time can be known as summer. After spring gives us life, before winter takes it away.
. . . And as fall turned to winter, the Darlington peach trees started dropping their leaves again, gently, like they were letting them go. It wasnt the same as giving them up. It wasnt the same as losing them.
And the snow that fell onto the roof in winter... it fell softly... softly... and it covered the house, the armchair, the books, the children's voices. It covered Anna and Abel, covered their parallel world, and everything was finally, very, very qui...
Jetzt habe ich es kapiert: Es geht nicht um Fortschritt. Es geht nicht um eine Erfahrung. Nein. Es geht in jedem einzelnen Moment einfach nur darum, in genau diesem Moment das Richtige zu tun.
I felt need. It was you. I can never allow myself to need you. So, my only choice is to make you need me, because ridding myself of you is no longer an option.
Nature awakens in brilliant colors of autumn, making me wish winter would bid adieu.
Some people work in the medical field, others in the legal field, while I work in the green field. Except in winter, and then I work in the brown field.
He could have set fire to it, the garden was dry enough, and burned it clean—privet, vines, and weeds; but he waited in his rooms through the winter instead, weeping and dreaming.
Wait,” Quinn said. “There’s one more thing.” I turned around and raised an eyebrow. His eyes were wary and he lacked his usual confidence. “Go to the Winter Dance with me.
Unforgiveness, splinter in your breastbone, lives there lodged like a small tree. Withers in winter, looms in spring. Its fruit is sweet on first bite, then turns into the taste of your own flesh.
I think they should combine the Summer and Winter Olympics and call it the Fall Olympics. They could host it in the spring, when all the lovers will flock to see me preform live for the chance to win their affection.
A one-winged bird does not fly south for the winter. It flies south, west, north, and east, over and over. That’s how I feel when I’m in love, only I walk.
I live in a house over there on the Island, and in that house there is a man waiting for me. When he drove up at the door I drove out of the dock because he says I’m his ideal.
And so I pray I am today as honest with myself, with life all around me and below and above me, with all who I encounter.
People who go to work every day, make sacrifices to raise families, and get through life without hurting other people if they can help it-those are the real heros.
Then the bow orchestra began to play an apocalyptically beautiful canon, one of those pieces in which, surely, the composer simply transcribed what was given, and trembled in awe of the hand that was guiding him.
