Quotes & Sayings About Cold Winter Mornings

Memory in these incomparable streets, in mosaics of pain and sweetness, was clear to me now, a unity at last. I remembered small and unimportant things from the past: the whispers of roommates during thunderstorms, the smell of brass polish on my fingertips, the first swim at Folly Beach in April, lightning over the Atlantic, shelling oysters at Bowen's Island during a rare Carolina snowstorm, pigeons strutting across the graveyard at St. Philip's, lawyers moving out of their offices to lunch on Broad Street, the darkness of reveille on cold winter mornings, regattas, the flash of bagpipers' tartans passing in review, blue herons on the marshes, the pressure of the chinstrap on my shako, brotherhood, shad roe at Henry's, camellias floating above water in a porcelain bowl, the scowl of Mark Santoro, and brotherhood again. — Pat Conroy

A boy from Brooklyn used to cruise on summer nights.
As soon as he'd hit sixty he'd hold his hand out the window,
cupping it around the wind. He'd been assured
this is exactly how a woman's breast feels when you put
your hand around it and apply a little pressure. Now he knew,
and he loved it. Night after night, again and again, until
the weather grew cold and he had to roll the window up.
For many years afterwards he was perpetually attempting
to soar. One winter's night, holding his wife's breast
in his hand, he closed his eyes and wanted to weep.
He loved her, but it was the wind he imagined now.
As he grew older, he loved the word etcetera and refused
to abbreviate it. He loved sweet white butter. He often
pretended to be playing the organ. On one of his last mornings,
he noticed the shape of his face molded in the pillow.
He shook it out, but the next morning it reappeared. — Mary Ruefle

Now that Eponine is dead, my anger has died with her. — Laura L. Smith

There is simply no plausible construction of the known evidence that leaves out Novak either providing a proffer through his lawyer of what he would say if he testified or having testified directly. — Michael Isikoff

The world is your catwalk, so just remember this when you're out there. — RuPaul

Once I've designed something, I immediately move on to the next thing. — Kelly Wearstler

The Lord has redeemed all of us, all of us, with the blood of Christ: all of us, not just Catholics. Everyone! 'Father, the atheists?' Even the atheists. Everyone! — Pope Francis

My men don't dig foxholes. I don't want them to. Foxholes only slow up an offensive. Keep moving. And don't give the enemy time to dig one either. — George S. Patton

If you're not a king you can wear a hat to be distinguished. And if you're not a king and you don't wear a hat you end up being a nobody. — Juan Pablo Villalobos

It was one of those bitter mornings when the whole of nature is shiny, brittle, and hard, like crystal. The trees, decked out in frost, seem to have sweated ice; the earth resounds beneath one's feet; the tiniest sounds carry a long way in the dry air; the blue sky is bright as a mirror, and the sun moves through space in icy brilliance, casting on the frozen world rays which bestow no warmth upon anything. — Guy De Maupassant

To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" he said.
I placed my hands flat on the table and leaned across it. "Stay the hell away from him."
"Who? Oh, you mean the guy who's gonna bite it soon?"
"He's not. He's going to be fine."
He reached a hand out and placed it over my own. I snatched my hand back. He shook his head at me and whispered, "You can't stop it."
"Watch me. — Megan Miranda

It was still late summer elsewhere, but here, high in Appalachia, fall was coming; for the last three mornings, she'd been able to see her breath.
The woods, which started twenty feet back from her backdoor like a solid wall, showed only hints of the impending autumn. A few leaves near the treetops had turned, but most were full and green. Visible in the distance, the Widow's Tree towered above the forest. Its leaves were the most stubborn, tenaciously holding on sometimes until spring if the winter was mild. It was a transitional period, when the world changed its cycle and opened a window during which people might also change, if they had the inclination. — Alex Bledsoe

The Bible teaches that all sin begins with sinful thinking. — Billy Graham

It was not that the youth had turned again from the hope of rest in the Son of Man; but that, as everyone knows who knows anything of the human spirit, there must be in its history days and seasons, mornings and nights, yea deepest midnights. It has its alternating summer and winter, its storm and shine, its soft dews and its tempests of lashing hail, its cold moons and prophetic stars, its pale twilights of saddest memory, and its golden gleams of brightest hope. — George MacDonald

The cross is a precious treasure to be kept secret, lest we be robbed of it. — Margaret Mary Alacoque

As parents, we can have no joy, knowing that this government is not sufficiently lasting to ensure any thing which we may bequeath to posterity: And by a plain method of argument, as we are running the next generation into debt, we ought to do the work of it, otherwise we use them meanly and pitifully. In order to discover the line of our duty rightly, we should take our children in our hand, and fix our station a few years farther into life; that eminence will present a prospect, which a few present fears and prejudices conceal from our sight. — Thomas Paine

Don't look forward to the day you stop suffering, because when it comes you'll know you're dead. — Tennessee Williams

I like misty autumn mornings,
and cold snowy winter nights.
Rainstorms bring me innerpeace,
thunder sets my soul alight.

I care not for summer,
days too long, the heavy heat.
Give me candlelight evenings,
early darkness, a silent street. — N.C.

AS WE DRIVE BACK into Portland, — E.L. James

Please do it your own way.
Do it in the mornings when your mind is cold
Do it in the evenings when everything is sold.
Do it in the springtime when springtime isn't there
Do it in the winter
We know winter well
Do it on very hot days
Try doing it in hell.
Trade bed for a pencil
Trade sorrow for a page
No work it out your own way
Have good luck at your age. — Ernest Hemingway,

I find television, and particularly live television, very romantic: the idea that there is this small group of people, way up high, in a skyscraper in the middle of Manhattan, beaming this signal out into the night. — Aaron Sorkin