Wednesday, January 5, 2011

"WINTER Jan. 2011"

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.

Winter either bites with its teeth or lashes with its tail.
Sometimes our fate resembles a fruit tree in winter. Who would think that those branches would turn green again and blossom, but we hope it, we know it.

Let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius.
Spring, summer, and fall fill us with hope; winter alone reminds us of the human condition.
I like these cold, gray winter days. Days like these let you savor a bad mood.
Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face.
Every winter,
When the great sun has turned his face away,
The earth goes down into a vale of grief,
And fasts, and weeps, and shrouds herself in sables,
Leaving her wedding-garlands to decay -
Then leaps in spring to his returning kisses.
Every mile is two in winter.
Winter dies into the spring, to be born again in the autumn.
There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you.... In spring, summer and fall people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself.
The tendinous part of the mind, so to speak, is more developed in winter; the fleshy, in summer.  I should say winter had given the bone and sinew to literature, summer the tissues and the blood.
Winter is the time of promise because there is so little to do - or because you can now and then permit yourself the luxury of thinking so.


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