Quotes about Winter

What finally helped was an image from a medieval monk, Brother Lawrence, who saw all of us as trees in winter, with little to give, stripped of leaves and color and growth, whom God loves unconditionally anyway. My priest friend Margaret, who works with the aged and who shared this image with me, wanted me to see that even though these old people are no longer useful in any traditional meaning of the word, they are there to be loved unconditionally, like trees in the winter. When

Good King Wenceslas looked out on the feast of Stephen, When the snow lay round about, Deep and crisp and even.

Our pride must have winter weather to rot it.

I see grace growth best in winter.

It was the winter wild while the Heav'n-born child all meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies.

[I]n the gloomy month of February.... The Deserts of Arabia are not more dreary and inhospitable than the streets of London at such a time.

I know the look of an apple that is roasting and sizzling on the hearth on a winter's evening, and I know the comfort that comes of eating it hot, along with some sugar and a drench of cream... I know how the nuts taken in conjunction with winter apples, cider, and doughnuts, make old people's tales and old jokes sound fresh and crisp and enchanting.

The tinkles of sleigh bells among the snowy hills came like elfin chimes through the frosty air, but their music was not sweeter than the song in Anne's heart and on her lips.

as time went on and autumn passed and winter came with its beautiful bare-limbed trees, and soft pearl-grey skies the were slashed with rifts of gold in the afternoons, and cleared to a jewelled pageantry of stars over the wide white hills and valleys around New Moon.

Who could blame the citizens of Massachusetts for rejoicing when spring is so close at hand? Winter in New England is merciless and cruel, a season that instills a particular melancholy in its residents and a hopelessness that is all but impossible to shake.

During the ice storms and long bleak nights of winter, she'd tell me the mountains were like sleeping giants that'd come awake again soon. "God'll see to it." And God did. Those mountains always did wake up, without fail. Year after year, the earth came back to life again with what Granny called "God-green".

The winter is cold, is cold. All's spent in keeping warm. Has joy been frozen, too? I blow upon my hands Stiff from the biting wind. My heart beats slow, beats slow. What has become of joy? If joy's gone from my heart Then it is closed to You Who made it, gave it life... Elusive, evasive, peace comes Only when it's not sought. Help me forget the cold That grips the grasping world...