Snowmelt Quotes & Sayings

The whole climate is changing: the winds, the ocean currents, the storm patterns, snow packs, snowmelt, flooding, droughts. Temperature is just a bit of it. — John Holdren

...a disciplined pursuit of less will keep us focused and make the greatest impact. — Tim Hiller

We are as near to heaven as we are far from self, and far from the love of a sinful world. — Samuel Rutherford

Our life's dance is not painted for us in footsteps on the floor. It's not laid out so we know where to place our next step. We simply had to judge which steps best fit the rhythms that we hear."
— Paul Marshall

Along the Merced River there's a deep sense of peace, yet it coexists with danger. No matter how sedate the river may appear, it's as wild as the other creatures of Yosemite. Strong currents run underneath the surface. If I were to jump in, the snowmelt cold would induce hypothermia within minutes and, with a little more volume, this calm-looking river would sweep me to my death. People have drowned when it's looked quiet like this, trying to wade across. Someone died here last year, and Sadie Schaeffer, who's buried in the Pioneer Cemetery, died doing that more than a hundred years ago just a short way downriver toward El Capitan. Nature doesn't stop and make exceptions for people who get in its way. — R. Mark Liebenow

The faint metallic smell of the falling snow surrounds her. calm yourself. Listen. Cars splash along streets, and snowmelt drums through runnels; she can hear snowflakes tick and patter through the trees. She can smell the cedars in the Jarin des Plantes a quarter mile away. Here the Metro hurdles beneath the sidewalk; that's the Quai Saint-Bernard. Here the sky opens up, and she hears the clacking of branches: that's the narrow stripe of gardens behind the Gallery of Paleontology. This, she realizes, must be the corner of the quay and rue Cuvier. '
Six blocks, forty buildings, ten tiny trees in a square. This street intersects this street intersects this street. One centimeter at a time.
Her father stirs the keys in his packets. Ahead loom the tall, grand houses that flanked the gardens, reflecting sound.
She says, we go left — Anthony Doerr

To begin with, I turn back time. I reverse it to that quaint period, the thirties, when the huge middle class of America was matriculating in a school for the blind. Their eyes had failed them, or they had failed their eyes, and so they were having their fingers pressed forcibly down on the fiery Braille alphabet of a dissolving economy. — Tennessee Williams

Who cares? Kingdoms rise and fall. Just don't burn the paintings in the Louvre, that's all. — Anne Rice

Men do their hardest work at the bottom of the ladder, not at the top. — William Feather

But God doesn't change.'
'Men do, though.'
'What difference does that make?'
'All the difference in the world. — Aldous Huxley

In his life he too, like all people, had harboured ideas and dreams. Some he had fulfilled for himself; some had been granted to him. Many things had remained out of reach, or barely had he reached them than they were torn from his hands again. But he was still here. And in the mornings after the first snowmelt, when he walked across the dew-soaked meadow outside his hut and lay down on one of the flat rocks scattered there, the cool stone at his back and the first warm rays of sun on his face, he felt that many things had not gone so badly after all. — Robert Seethaler

Some people
Never find the right kind of love
you know, the kind that steals
your breath away.
Like diving into a snowmelt.
The kind that jolts your heart,
sets it beating apace.
An anxious hiccuping of hummingbirds wings.
The kind that makes every terrible minute apart feel like hours.
Days.
Years.
Some people flit from one insane possibility to the next.
Never experincing the connection of two people.
rocked by destiny.
Never knowing what it means to love someone else,
more than themselves.
More than life itself, or the promise of something better.
Beyond this world,
More even (forgive me!) than god.
Lucky me, I found the right kind of love.
With the wrong person. — Ellen Hopkins

Burning the small dead branches broke from beneath thick spreading whitebark pine. A hundred summers snowmelt rock and air hiss in a twisted bough. — Gary Snyder

Oil the saw, sharpen axes,
Learn the names of all the peaks you see and which is highest-
there are hundreds-
Learn by heart the drainages between
Go find a shallow pool of snowmelt on a good day, bathe in the lukewarm water. — Gary Snyder

Getting plastic surgery in your late 70's, it's kind of like painting your house as the fire approaches. Just die, there's no shame in it. — Dana Gould

The brunette phase just came about because I was fed up with this 'Blonde Angel Image'. The rebel in me demanded a new color. — Magdalena Neuner

All winter you carved water jars out of ice.
How well will they hold the summer snowmelt? — Rumi