snow Quotes

So the little girl went on with her little naked feet, which were quite red and blue with the cold. In an old apron she carried a number of matches, and had a bundle of them in her hands. No one had bought anything of her the whole day, nor had anyone given her even a penny. Shivering with cold and hunger, she crept along; poor little child, she looked the picture of misery. The snowflakes fell on her long, fair hair, which hung in curls on her shoulders, but she regarded them not.

“O how beautiful, look at the crimson snow! And up there on the rocks there are ever so many roses!”

“Once I spoke the language of the flowers, Once I understood each word the caterpillar said, Once I smiled in secret at the gossip of the starlings, And shared a conversation with the housefly in my bed. Once I heard and answered all the questions of the crickets, And joined the crying of each falling dying flake of snow, Once I spoke the language of the flowers. . . . How did it go? How did it go?”

When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.

“Mariam lay on the couch, hands tucked between her knees, watched the whirlpool of snow twisting and spinning outside the window. She remembered Nana saying once that each snowflake was a sigh heaved by an aggrieved woman somewhere in the world. That all the sighs drifted up the sky, gathered into clouds, then broke into tiny pieces that fell silently on the people below. *As a reminder of how people like us suffer,* she’d said. *How quietly we endure all that falls upon us.*”

“And snow- snow is not my enemy, I tell him. Snow is God’s way of telling people to slow down and rest and stay in bed for a day. And besides, snow always solves itself. Mixes with the leaves to form more earth, I tell him.”

“I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand & the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep & there are no words for that.”

“Straight lines, even edges. People don’t shovel snow that way anymore. Nowadays they just clear a way, they use snow blowers and all sorts of things. Any old method will do, scattering snow all over the place. As if that were the only thing that mattered in life: pushing one’s way forward.”

“You must be very careful, however, to make my bed in the right way, for I wish you always to shake it thoroughly, so that the feathers fly about; then they say, down there in the world, that it is snowing; for I am Mother Holle.”

“Yesterday, I had a dream... A dream I have had since long ago. In that dream, we had yet to turn 13. We were in a vast countryside, completely covered with snow. The lights of the houses extended far into the distance, a dazzling sight.”

“We walked on the thick carpet of fresh snow, but did not leave any footprints. And like that... ‘Someday we will be able to watch the cherry blossoms together again’. Both of us, without any doubt... That’s what we thought.”

“Running here running there, excited, hardly able to stop, he leaps, he spins until the white snow is written upon in large, exuberant letters, a long sentence, expressing the pleasures of the body in this world. ”

″ One Winter morning Peter woke up and looked out the window. Snow had fallen during the night.”

″ Crunch, crunch, crunch, his feet sank into the snow.”

“Down fell the snow --plop! -- on top of Peter’s head!

″ He told his mother all about his adventures while she took of his wet socks. ”

″ Before he got into bed he looked in his pocket. His pockets was empty. The snowball wasn’t there. He felt very sad. ”

“The snow was still everywhere. New snow was falling!”

“After breakfast he called to his friends from across the hall, and they went out together into the deep, deep snow. ”

“The snow was piled up very high along the street to make a path for walking.”

″ He walked with his toes pointing out, like this: He walked with his toes pointing in, like this: ”

″ He dragged his feet s-l-o-w-l-y yo make tracks.”

“Once there was a boy named Nicki who wanted his new mittens made from wool as white as snow.

“At first his Grandmother, Baba, did not want to knit white mittens. ‘If you drop one in the snow,’ she warned, ‘you’ll never find it.’ ”

“I just want to go in to get out of the snow. Keep your mind on your work. You just stay there, you two. I will go in the house and find something to do.”

“Look where it blew! You blew the mess out of the house thats true. But now you’ve made Snow Spots! You can’t let THEM stay!”

“Don’t ask me what Voom is. I never will know. But, boy! Let me tell you it DOES clean up snow!”

“Our feet crunched over the crisp snow and little gray footprints followed. Pa made a long shadow, but mine was short and round. I had to run after him every now and then to keep up and my short, round shadow bumped after me.”

“The moon was high above us. It seemed to fit exactly over the center of the clearing and the snow below it was whiter than milk in a cereal bowl.”

“Winter always came creeping up on you when you least expected it. Joel had decided last autumn that he would never allow that to happen again. Before going to bed, he would make up his mind whether or not it would start snowing during the night.”

“ ‘Do not be afraid,’ said Frog. ‘I will be with you on the sled. It will be a fine, fast ride. Toad, you sit in front. I will sit right behind you.’ “

“He rushed outside in confusion. There was snow everywhere. It was slippery under his feet. Suddenly he felt himself falling over backwards...”

“He walked and walked until he lost his way. Everything was white.”

“Exhausted he lay down in the snow, a bare frog.”

“Without fur, fat or feathers, but dressed in his new pullover, he took his first steps in the snow.” ‘Well?’ asked Hare curiously. ‘It’s good,’ answered Frog bravely.”

“The snows came. Leo’s father wasn’t watching. But Leo still wasn’t blooming. The trees budded. Leo’s father wasn’t watching. But Leo still wasn’t blooming.”

“the girl...swept away the snow behind the little house with the broom, and what did she find but real ripe strawberries, which came up quite dark-red out of the snow! In her joy she hastily gathered her basket full, thanked the little men, shook hands with each of them, and ran home to take her step-mother what she had longed for so much.”

“The stranger came early in February, one wintry day, through a biting wind and a driving snow, the last snowfall of the year, over the down, walking from Bramblehurst railway station, and carrying a little black portmanteau in his thickly gloved hand.”

“But that was not the same snow,” I say. “Our snow was not only shaken from whitewash buckets down the sky, it came shawling out of the ground and swam and drifted out of the arms and hands and bodies of the trees.

“Bert’s wish for snow was soon gratified. Sunday morning found it snowing steadily, the soft flakes coming down silently and covering the ground to the depth of several inches. ‘Winter has come after all!’ cried the boy. ‘Wish it was Monday instead of Sunday.”

“Wilson Bentley was always fascinated by snow. In childhood and adulthood, he saw each tiny crystal of a snowflake as a little miracle and wanted to understand them.”

“I don’t know how it is, Christopher Robin, but what with all this snow and one thing and another, not to mention icicles and such-like, it isn’t so Hot in my field about three o’clock in the morning as some people think it is. It isn’t Close, if you know what I mean—not so as to be uncomfortable. It isn’t Stuffy. In fact, Christopher Robin,” he went on in a loud whisper, “quite-between-ourselves-and-don’t-tell-anybody, it’s Cold.”

The wind had dropped, and the snow, tired of rushing round in circles trying to catch itself up, now fluttered gently down until it found a place on which to rest, and sometimes the place was Pooh’s nose and sometimes it wasn’t, and in a little while Piglet was wearing a white muffler round his neck and feeling more snowy behind the ears than he had ever felt before.

So he sang it again. The more it SNOWS-tiddely-pom, The more it GOES-tiddely-pom The more it GOES-tiddely-pom On Snowing. And nobody KNOWS-tiddely-pom, How cold my TOES-tiddely-pom How cold my TOES-tiddely-pom Are Growing. He sang it like that, which is much the best way of singing it, and when he had finished, he waited for Piglet to say that, of all the Outdoor Hums for Snowy Weather he had ever heard, this was the best. And, after thinking the matter out carefully, Piglet said: “Pooh,” he said solemnly, “it isn’t the toes so much as the ears.”

He had been suddenly jerked from the heart of civilization and flung into the heart of things primordial.

The snow walls pressed him on every side, and a great surge of fear swept through him—the fear of the wild thing for the trap. It was a token that he was harking back through his own life to the lives of his forebears; for he was a civilized dog, an unduly civilized dog, and of his own experience knew no trap and so could not of himself fear it.

A chill wind was blowing that nipped him sharply and bit with especial venom into his wounded shoulder. He lay down on the snow and attempted to sleep, but the frost soon drove him shivering to his feet.