Quotes About December

Quotes tagged as "december" (showing 1-26 of 26)
Dr. Seuss
“How did it get so late so soon?”
Dr. Seuss

“December's wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer's memory...”
John Geddes

Roman Payne
“It is growing cold. Winter is putting footsteps in the meadow. What whiteness boasts that sun that comes into this wood! One would say milk-colored maidens are dancing on the petals of orchids. How coldly burns our sun! One would say its rays of light are shards of snow, one imagines the sun lives upon a snow crested peak on this day. One would say she is a woman who wears a gown of winter frost that blinds the eyes. Helplessness has weakened me. Wandering has wearied my legs.”
Roman Payne

Sarah Kay
“It is December, and nobody asked if I was ready.”
Sarah Kay

Vera Nazarian
“Colored lights blink on and off, racing across the green boughs. Their reflections dance across exquisite glass globes and splinter into shards against tinsel thread and garlands of metallic filaments that disappear underneath the other ornaments and finery.

Shadows follow, joyful, laughing sprites.

The tree is rich with potential wonder.

All it needs is a glance from you to come alive.”
Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

Fennel Hudson
“December, being the last month of the year, cannot help but make us think of what is to come.”
Fennel Hudson, A Meaningful Life - Fennel's Journal - No. 1

Sanober  Khan
“I blink January’s lashes
and gush down December’s cheeks”
Sanober Khan, Turquoise Silence

Toni Sorenson
“Hot cocoa and cold toes remind me of Christmas.”
Toni Sorenson

Franz Kafka
“4 December. To die would mean nothing else than to surrender a nothing to the nothing, but that would be impossible to conceive, for how could a person, even only as a nothing, consciously surrender himself to the nothing, and not merely to an empty nothing but rather to a roaring nothing whose nothingness consists only in its incomprehensibility.”
Franz Kafka

Mark A. Rayner
“Winter arrived with December, and the world continued to suffer the loss of the Internet and most forms of communication. Supply chains were disrupted. The only mass form of personal communication was the letter, and postal workers were having their worst year ever, as they were actually meeded. Food was becoming scarcer and more expensive, as was fuel for vehicles and heating. Major cities experienced riots on a regular basis, spurred on by religious fervor and want. Civilization was on the brink of collapse.”
Mark A. Rayner, The Fridgularity

“...when I was a kid, Toronto streets were deserted and quiet on Sundays, except for the sound of church bells I stood on the sidewalk one December listening to the Christmas bells - I've never forgotten that moment...”
John Geddes, A Familiar Rain

Charlotte Riddell
“He had been walking for a long time, ever since dark in fact, and dark falls soon in December.

("The Old House In Vauxhall Walk")”
Charlotte Riddell, Gaslit Nightmares: Stories by Robert W. Chambers, Charles Dickens, Richard Marsh, and Others

Lamec Mariita
“Michigan isn't just cold in December; it's artic.”
Lamec Mariita, 17 Cents and a Dream

“Congregating power to leave u..... To control this love
But I always go back to December!!”
Moaz Zulfiqar

Dante Alighieri
“Without Hope we live in desire.”
Dante Alighieri

Lois Lowry
“He had waited a long time for this special December. Now that it was almost upon him, he wasn’t frightened, but he was . . . eager, he decided. He was eager for it to come. And he was excited, certainly. All of the Elevens were excited about the event that would be coming so soon.”
Lois Lowry, Son

Kenneth Grahame
“The rapid nightfall of mid-December had quite beset the little village as they approached it on soft feet over a first thin fall of powdery snow. Little was visible but squares of a dusky orange-red on either side of the street, where the firelight or lamplight of each cottage overflowed through the casements into the dark world without. Most of the low latticed windows were innocent of blinds, and to the lookers-in from outside, the inmates, gathered round the tea-table, absorbed in handiwork, or talking with laughter and gesture, had each that happy grace which is the last thing the skilled actor shall capture--the natural grace which goes with perfect unconsciousness of observation. Moving at will from one theatre to another, the two spectators, so far from home themselves, had something of wistfulness
in their eyes as they watched a cat being stroked, a sleepy child picked up and huddled off to bed, or a tired man stretch and knock out his pipe on the end of a smouldering log.”
Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

“Wintry it ain't- no complaints! Snowier: Storefronts are showier, light displays glowier. Shoppers are prowling, blizzard howling! Drifts a-heaping, lords a-leaping, Yule logs burning, gifts returning. Winds are keen for 2015!”
The Old Farmer's Alamanac

Anamika Mishra
“Someone asked me when is my birthday?
The poet inside me replied,
"My birthday is on the last day of the year,
It's 31st December my dear!”
Anamika Mishra

Kenneth Grahame
“It was a pretty sight, and a seasonable one, that met their eyes when they flung the door open. In the fore-court, lit by the dim rays of a horn lantern, some eight or ten little field-mice stood in a semicircle, red worsted comforters round their throats, their fore-paws thrust deep into their pockets, their feet jigging for warmth. With bright beady eyes they glanced shyly at each other, sniggering a little, sniffing and applying coat-sleeves a good deal. As the door opened, one of the elder ones that carried the lantern was just saying, "Now then, one, two, three!" and forthwith their shrill little voices uprose on the air, singing one of the old-time carols that their forefathers composed in fields that were fallow and held by frost, or when snow-bound in chimney corners, and handed down to be sung in the miry street to lamp-lit windows at Yule-time.”
Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

Rao Umar Javed
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor
Eagerly I wished the morrow, - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore --
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore
–”
Rao Umar Javed, A Painter, A Performer, A Poet and A Madman

Jerome K. Jerome
“There must be something ghostly in the air of Christmas — something about the close, muggy atmosphere that draws up the ghosts, like the dampness of the summer rains brings out the frogs and snails.”
Jerome K. Jerome, Told After Supper

“Ur skins is so cold and dry....
Like u r also afraid so this coming December..... ??”
Moaz Zulfiqar

Vivian Swift
“Now is the time of fresh starts
This is the season that makes everything new.
There is a longstanding rumor that Spring is the time
of renewal, but that's only if you ignore the depressing
clutter and din of the season. All that flowering
and budding and birthing--- the messy youthfulness
of Spring actually verges on squalor. Spring is too busy,
too full of itself, too much like a 20-year-old to be the best time for reflection, re-grouping, and starting fresh.
For that you need December. You need to have lived
through the mindless biological imperatives of your life (to bud, and flower, and show off) before you can see that a landscape of new fallen snow is THE REAL YOU.
December has the clarity, the simplicity, and the silence you need for the best FRESH START of your life.”
Vivian Swift, When Wanderers Cease to Roam: A Traveler's Journal of Staying Put

Nescio
“It was in December. I stood in the back of the tram, all the way in the back. It drove through the country and stopped and started again, it took hours, the countryside was endless. And the sky got bluer and bluer and the sun shone until it seemed like flowers would have to start sprouting out of the country bumpkins. And the red roofs in the villages and the black trees and the fields, most of them covered with straw, had it nice and warm, and the dunes sat bareheaded in the sun. And the road lay there, white and smarting, it couldn't bear the sunlight, and the glass panes of the village streetlamp flashed, they had trouble withstanding the glare too.
But I got colder and colder. And the tram ran as long as the sun shone. It's a long ride from Hillegom to Leiden and the days are short in December. By the end, a block of ice was standing there on the tram staring into the big stupid cold sun that was flaming red as though the revolution was finally starting, as though offices were being blown up all over Amsterdam, but still it couldn't bring a spark of life back to my cold feet and stiff legs. And it kept getting bigger and colder, the sun, and I got colder and stayed the same size, and the blue sky looked down very disapprovingly: What are you doing on that tram?”
Nescio, Amsterdam Stories

Will Chancellor
“By December an elastic skin of ice reached out hundreds of miles into the sea, rolling with every wave.”
Will Chancellor, A Brave Man Seven Storeys Tall

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