Genius is an African who dreams up snow
In the bleak midwinter Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak midwinter, Long ago.
Lo. sifted through the winds that blow, Down comes the soft and silent snow, White petals from the flowers that grow In the cold atmosphere.
Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.
The Eskimos have hundreds of word for snow but we've invented three times that many words for relationships. What really defines a relationship?
Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, Nor time unmake what poets know
Corruption is like a ball of snow, once it's set a rolling it must increase.
Come, see the north-wind's masonry, Out of an unseen quarry evermore Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer Curves his white bastions with projected roof Round every windward stake, or tree, or door. Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he For number or proportion.
Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night; For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back.
Before you love, Learn to run through the snow Leaving no footprint
Snow and adolescence are the only problems that disappear if you ignore them long enough.
The Eskimos had fifty-two names for snow because it was important to them: there ought to be as many for love.
A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water.
Through the sharp air a flaky torrent flies, Mocks the slow sight, and hides the gloomy skies; The fleecy clouds their chilly bosoms bare, And shed their substance on the floating air.
Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow Descends the snow.
Getting an inch of snow is like winning 10 cents in the lottery.
Don't complain about the snow on your neighbor's roof when your own doorstep is unclean.
When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.
An actor is a sculptor who carves in snow
Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing.
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.
Oh! the snow, the beautiful snow, Filling the sky and earth below, Over the housetops, over the street, Over the heads of the people you meet. Dancing, Flirting, Skimming along.
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.
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