Winter Beauty Quotes

Love winter when the plant says nothing.

For the winter, I think dark lips, any dark lip for the winter is really cool.

Is it snowing where you are? All the world that I see from my tower is draped in white and the flakes are coming down as big as pop-corns. It's late afternoon - the sun is just setting (a cold yellow colour) behind some colder violet hills, and I am up in my window seat using the last light to write to you.

I must confess a shameful secret: I love Chicago best in the cold.

Maine is a joy in the summer. But the soul of Maine is more apparent in the winter.

And don't think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It's quiet, but the roots are down there riotous.

What fire could ever equal the sunshine of a winter's day?

Footprints in the snow have been unfailing provokers of sentiment ever since snow was first a white wonder in this drab-coloured world of ours.

On cold December fragrant chaplets blow, And heavy harvests nod beneath the snow.

Winter then in its early and clear stages, was a purifying engine that ran unhindered over city and country, alerting the stars to sparkle violently and shower their silver light into the arms of bare upreaching trees. It was a mad and beautiful thing that scoured raw the souls of animals and man, driving them before it until they loved to run. And what it did to Northern forests can hardly be described, considering that it iced the branches of the sycamores on Chrystie Street and swept them back and forth until they rang like ranks of bells.

What I mean is, I love winter, and when you really love something, then it loves you back, in whatever way it has to love.

Behold the groves that shine with silver frost, their beauty withered, and their verdure lost!

I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow.

Winter Song The browns, the olives, and the yellows died, And were swept up to heaven; where they glowed Each dawn and set of sun till Christmastide, And when the land lay pale for them, pale-snowed, Fell back, and down the snow-drifts flamed and flowed. From off your face, into the winds of winter, The sun-brown and the summer-gold are blowing; But they shall gleam with spiritual glinter, When paler beauty on your brows falls snowing, And through those snows my looks shall be soft-going.

I'm a very big fan of winter-flowering shrubs and bulbs. You have the smell, you have the color - it's really like a present from God when something like that is in flower in the middle of the snow.

Even in winter, the cold isn't always bitter, and not every day is cruel.

He is some brainless, beautiful creature, who should always be here in winter when we have no flowers to look at, and always here in the summer when we want something to chill our intelligence.

It's quite nice to have a bit more color on the lips during wintertime. And it's festive, isn't it?

The pale, cold light of the winter sunset did not beautify - it was like the light of truth itself.