quotations about snow
Snow makes cities innocent again, reveals the frailty of the human gesture against the void.
GLEN DUNCAN, The Last Werewolf
The snow did not even whisper its way to earth, but seemed to salt the night with silence.
DEAN KOONTZ, Brother Odd
Snow is ... the once upon a time of weather.
SEAN HURLEY, "Twenty Ways to Think About ... Snow", NHPR, December 16, 2016
The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches.
E. E. Cummings, Viva
Getting only an inch of snow is like winning a nickel in a poker game.
GEORGE MOON, The Tennessee Mountain Man
Snow was falling,
so much like stars
filling the dark trees
that one could easily imagine
its reason for being was nothing more
MARY OLIVER, "Snowy Night", What Do We Know: Poems and Prose Poems
Oh, the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since we've no place to go
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow
SAMMY CAHN, "Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!"
I am younger each year at the first snow. When I see it, suddenly, in the air, all little and white and moving; then I am in love again and very young and I believe everything.
ANNE SEXTON, letter to W. D. Snodgrass, November 28, 1958
Snow makes a soft bed, but no man wakes from it. That was the wisdom of the North.
MARK LAWRENCE, Prince of Fools
Snow brings a special quality with it, the power to stop life as you know it dead in its tracks. There is nothing you can do but give in to the moment at hand--what I call the Zen of snow.
NANCY HATCH WOODWARD, "Southern Snow", Southern Cultures, spring 2012
A snowball in the face is surely the perfect beginning to a lasting friendship.
MARKUS ZUSAK, The Book Thief
No Man's Land under snow is like the face of the moon, chaotic, crater-ridden, uninhabitable, awful, the abode of madness.
WILFRED OWEN, The Collected poems of Wilfred Owen
Out of the bosom of the Air,
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW, Snow-Flakes
Snow affords us a very useful reflection; it reminds us of our weakness. What could all the industry and strength of men do, should they undertake to remove the ice and snow? And it is not without design that these images of the frailty of worldly things are presented to our view; they are intended to teach us the uncertainty of earthly things; and we may learn from them that our present pleasures are like snow, which dazzles the eye, but soon melts and disappears.
STURM, attributed, Day's Collacon
Oh, the weather outside was whitening
'Til the dog did something frightening
He's got no other place to go
Yellow snow, yellow snow, yellow snow
BOB RIVERS, "Yellow Snow"
Snow pursued by the wind is not wholly unlike a retreating army. In the open field it ranges itself in ranks and battalions; where it can get a foothold it makes a stand; where it can take cover it does so. You may see whole platoons of snow cowering behind a bit of broken wall.
AMBROSE BIERCE, "The Night-Doings at Deadman's"
But pleasures are like poppies spread--
You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;
Or like the snow falls in the river--
A moment white -- then melts for ever.
ROBERT BURNS, Tam o' Shanter
The aging process has you firmly in its grasp if you never get the urge to throw a snowball.
DOUG LARSON, attributed, Dictionary of Quotations
Nature has many tricks wherewith she convinces man of his finity--the ceaseless flow of the tides, the fury of the storm, the shock of the earthquake, the long roll of heaven's artillery--but the most tremendous, the most stupefying of all, is the passive phase of the White Silence. All movement ceases, the sky clears, the heavens are as brass; the slightest whisper seems sacrilege, and man becomes timid, affrighted at the sound of his own voice. Sole speck of life journeying across the ghostly wastes of a dead world, he trembles at his audacity, realizes that his is a maggot's life, nothing more. Strange thoughts arise unsummoned, and the mystery of all things strives for utterance. And the fear of death, of God, of the universe comes over him--the hope of the Resurrection and the Life, the yearning for immortality, the vain striving of the imprisoned essence--it is then, if ever, man walks alone with God.
JACK LONDON, "The White Silence"
The trouble with the last snowfall of the season is that you can't be sure.
DOUG LARSON, attributed, Reader's Digest, 1998