He who marvels at the beauty of the world in summer will find equal cause for wonder and admiration in winter.

A sap run is the sweet goodbye of winter. It is the fruit of the equal marriage of the sun and frost.

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.

The country is more of a wilderness, more of a wild solitude, in the winter than in the summer. The wild comes out. The urban, the cultivated, is hidden or negatived.

All sounds are sharper in winter; the air transmits better.

What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.