Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Quotes

And finally Winter, with its bitin', whinin' wind, and all the land will be mantled with snow.

The ground has on its clothes. The trees poke out of sheets and each branch wears the sock of God.

A Christmas frost had come at midsummer; a white December storm had whirled over June; ice glazed the ripe apples, drifts crushed the blowing roses; on hayfield and cornfield lay a frozen shroud: lanes which last night blushed full of flowers, to-day were pathless with untrodden snow; and the woods, which twelve hours since waved leafy and flagrant as groves between the tropics, now spread, waste, wild, and white as pine-forests in wintry Norway.

I love cold weather.

Winter is not a season, it's an occupation.

A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water.

In the bleak midwinter Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, Snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak midwinter, Long ago.

It is deep January. The sky is hard. The stalks are firmly rooted in ice.

Do you hear the snow against the windowpanes, Kitty? How nice and soft it sounds! Just as if some one was kissing the window all over outside. I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, 'Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.' And when they wake up in the summer, Kitty, they dress themselves all in green, and dance about - whenever the wind blows.

When the cold comes to New England it arrives in sheets of sleet and ice. In December, the wind wraps itself around bare trees and twists in between husbands and wives asleep in their beds. It shakes the shingles from the roofs and sifts through cracks in the plaster. The only green things left are the holly bushes and the old boxwood hedges in the village, and these are often painted white with snow. Chipmunks and weasels come to nest in basements and barns; owls find their way into attics. At night,the dark is blue and bluer still, as sapphire of night.

I came from Canada, where it's freezing cold for seven months out of the year.

Through the small tall bathroom window the December yard is gray and scratchy, the tree calligraphic.

Even in winter an isolated patch of snow has a special quality.

You can't get too much winter in the winter.

I have never seen snow and do not know what winter means.

I love snow; I love building snowman. The only thing I don't like is the cold - so if we could have a hot Christmas, that would be amazing.

I think snow is so evocative and has such a powerful atmosphere.

I like the cold weather better than the hot weather.

Even though I'm from Minnesota, I did not like cold weather.

I don't like cold weather.