#winter

I know. You know I know. I know you know I know. We know Henry knows, and Henry knows we know it. We're a knowledgeable family. ↗

— James Goldman

#lion-in-winter #family

The day, a compunctious Sunday after a week of blizzards, had been part jewel, part mud. In the midst of my usual afternoon stroll through the small hilly town attached to the girls' college where I taught French literature, I had stopped to watch a family of brilliant icicles drip-dripping from the eaves of a frame house. So clear-cut were their pointed shadows on the white boards behind them that I was sure the shadows of the falling drops should be visible too. But they were not. ("The Vane Sisters") ↗

— Vladimir Nabokov

#snow #winter #family

Spiders evidently as surprised by the weather as the rest of us: their webs were still everywhere - little silken laundry lines with perfect snowflakes hung out in rows to dry. ↗

— Leslie Land

#spiders #winter #woods #food

There was no sound, but she felt a movement, a shifting of the air in her room, the warmth of another presence. Isabel opened her eyes. He was there, at the foot of her bed, a single candle in his hand, dressed only in shirtsleeves, waistcoat, and breeches. “Forgive me,” he whispered as he set the candle down. “I could not stay away. ↗

— Elizabeth Hoyt

#isabel #thief-of-shadows #winter #forgiveness

still other winters average their rain months into a long, cold season of relentless sog and little color. At such times, looking out through the spattered glass, I feel, deep in some spongy, unignorable organ, that we will have floods, and damage, and losses; we will have gray till the cows come home, and there will be no more cows--they'll all just rot, drown, or simply wash away. We will have rain until the very hills dissolve. And when the dirty cotton swaddling of fog finally falls away, we will all be desperate for vital signs. ↗

— Robert Michael Pyle

#winter #home

The warrior may fight for gold or for an immediate gain, or for something to take home for the winter to feed the family. The soldier is part of a more complex society. He's fighting for a group ethic of some sort. ↗

— C. J. Cherryh

#ethic #family #feed #fight #fighting

...I hear the sounds of melting snow outside my window every night and with the first faint scent of spring, I remember life exists... ↗

— John Geddes

#life #seasons #spring #winter #life

Her life had been altogether artificial; she had always been a great garden lily in a hot-house, she had never known what it was to be blown by a fresh breeze on a sun-swept moorland like a heather flower. The hot-house shelters from all chills and is full of perfume, but you can see no horizon from it; that alone is the joy of the moorland. ↗

— Ouida

#p- #life

Nature awakens in brilliant colors of autumn, making me wish winter would bid adieu. ↗

— Richelle E. Goodrich

#morning #nature #richelle #richelle-goodrich #sunrise

The winter will be long and bleak. Nature has a dismal aspect. ↗

— Charles Nodier

#nature