Winter is not a season, it’s a celebration.
Every winter has its spring.
If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.
We cannot stop the winter or the summer from coming. We cannot stop the spring or the fall or make them other than they are. They are gifts from the universe that we cannot refuse. But we can choose what we will contribute to life when each arrives.
Snow brings a special quality with it — the power to stop life as you know it dead in its tracks.
People don’t notice whether it’s winter or summer when they’re happy.
In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.
To appreciate the beauty of a snowflake it is necessary to stand out in the cold.
One kind word can warm three winter months.
No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.
I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, “go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.”
When it snows, you have two choices: shovel or make snow angels.
In the winter she curls up around a good book and dreams away the cold.
If winter comes, can spring be far behind?
Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.
Winter passes and one remembers one’s perseverance.
Winter, a lingering season, is a time to gather golden moments, embark upon a sentimental journey, and enjoy every idle hour.
He who marvels at the beauty of the world in summer will find equal cause for wonder and admiration in winter.
There’s just something beautiful about walking on snow that nobody else has walked on. It makes you believe you’re special.
Well, I know now. I know a little more how much a simple thing like a snowfall can mean to a person.
My old grandmother always used to say, summer friends will melt away like summer snows, but winter friends are friends forever.
December’s wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer’s memory …
Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart.
What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.
Thank goodness for the first snow, it was a reminder — no matter how old you became and how much you’d seen, things could still be new if you were willing to believe they still mattered.
Snow falling soundlessly in the middle of the night will always fill my heart with sweet clarity.
The color of springtime is in the flowers; the color of winter is in the imagination.