The last day of the old year was one of those bright, cold, dazzling winter days, which bombard us with their brilliancy, and command our admiration but never our love.
—Lucy Maud Montgomery (1874–1942) Canadian Novelist
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.
—Edith Sitwell (1887–1964) British Poet, Literary Critic
Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart.
—Victor Hugo (1802–85) French Novelist
Looking up, she showed him quite a young face, but one whose bloom and promise were all swept away, as if the haggard winter should unnaturally kill the spring.
—Charles Dickens (1812–70) English Novelist
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.
—Anne Bradstreet (1612–72) American Poet
Every mile is two in winter.
—George Herbert (1593–1633) Welsh Anglican Poet, Orator, Clergyman
Winter either bites with its teeth or lashes with its tail.
—Common Proverb
Winter lies too long in country towns; hangs on until it is stale and shabby, old and sullen.
—Willa Cather (1873–1947) American Novelist, Writer
Many of the phenomena of Winter are suggestive of an inexpressible tenderness and fragile delicacy. We are accustomed to hear this king described as a rude and boisterous tyrant; but with the gentleness of a lover he adorns the tresses of Summer.
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–62) American Philosopher
O Winter! ruler of the inverted year, … I crown thee king of intimate delights, Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness, And all the comforts that the lowly roof Of undisturb’d Retirement, and the hours Of long uninterrupted evening, know.
—William Cowper (1731–1800) English Anglican Poet, Hymn writer
January, month of empty pockets! Let us endure this evil month, anxious as a theatrical producer’s forehead.
—Colette (1873–1954) French Novelist, Performer
There is probably a smell of roasted chestnuts and other good comfortable things all the time, for we are telling Winter Stories – Ghost Stories, or more shame for us – round the Christmas fire; and we have never stirred, except to draw a little nearer to it.
—Charles Dickens (1812–70) English Novelist
One kind word can warm three winter months.
—Japanese Proverb
Never are voices so beautiful as on a winter’s evening, when dusk almost hides the body, and they seem to issue from nothingness with a note of intimacy seldom heard by day.
—Virginia Woolf (1882–1941) English Novelist
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