#winter

She threw one leg over his and straddled his lap, then reached under herself and found him again. He tore his mouth from hers. “Wait.” “No.” She looked him frankly in the eyes. “I don’t care if you spill at once. I need you inside me now.” His beautiful eyes widened and then narrowed. “You’ll not always hold the reins, my lady.” She smiled sweetly. “Naturally not, but I do now. ↗

— Elizabeth Hoyt

#isabel #thief-of-shadows #winter #beauty

Love for the beauty of the soul. I shall love you always. When the flower of life has gone, ever I shall find you. When all is lost and winter comes, I shall be your spring time. And memory fades and wilts then, I shall always find you.... I shall always find you.... ↗

— Laurel A. Rockefeller

#elendir #find #flower #grief #hope

Everybody was dying, or already dead, or leaving other people, and the year was dying into winter, and the only thing to do was make some noise. ↗

— Marina Endicott

#winter #death

The past was like a bad dream; the future was all happy holiday as I moved Southwards week by week, easily, lazily, lingering as long as I dared, but always heeding the call! ↗

— Kenneth Grahame

#migration #south #summer #winter #dreams

L.A. kills people.' Jacaranda said. 'You're lucky you're leaving. You'll be able to write.' She looked paler, going through another depression, smoking in bed in her lilac room. The walls were the color of her veins. She was getting too thin, even for the modeling. . .Jacaranda died last winter when the flowering trees were bare. You couldn't even tell which ones once cried the purple blossoms she named herself after. ↗

— Francesca Lia Block

#friendship #winter #death

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

#cold #coldness #december #february #forest

Gripped with bitter cold, ice-locked, Petersburg burned in delirium. One knew: out there, invisible behind the curtain of fog, the red and yellow columns, spires, and hoary gates and fences crept on tiptoe, creaking and shuffling. A fevered, impossible, icy sun hung in the fog - to the left, to the right, above, below - a dove over a house on fire. From the delirium-born, misty world, dragon men dived up into the earthly world, belched fog - heard in the misty world as words, but here becoming nothing - round white puffs of smoke. The dragon men dived up and disappeared again into the fog. And trolleys rushed screeching out of the earthly world into the unknown. ("The Dragon") ↗

— Yevgeny Zamyatin

#winter #men

Song falls silent, music is dumb, But the air burns with their fragrance, And white winter, on its knees, Observes everything with reverent attention. ↗

— Anna Akhmatova

#music

Trees lose their leaves in blizzards like these. ↗

— Ashly Lorenzana

#depression #despair #hopelessness #leaves #metaphor

Melancholy were the sounds on a winter's night. ↗

— Virginia Woolf

#night #sad #winter #winter