Best 85 quotes in «frost quotes» category

I wander forth this chill December dawn: John Frost and all his elves are out, I see, As busy as the elfin world can be, Clothing a world asleep with fleecy lawn.

It was (Nick Frost's) first-ever bedroom scene and my first-ever bedroom scene...not that we were actually doing much, but we did have to lie sort of semi-nude under the sheets. And he was incredibly sort of vibrant and outgoing, but then he suddenly got very, like, 'I'm engaged and I'm getting married!' And I was, 'Okay, that's good. I just won't be touching you, then!'

I wonder about all the roads not taken and am moved to quote Frost...but won't. It is sad to be able only to mouth other poets. I want someone to mouth me.

Maybe if I completely shaved my head and get the frost out of my moustache, maybe I could get one of those serious acting jobs.

January is here, with eyes that keenly glow, A frost-mailed warrior striding a shadowy steed of snow.

Of all the poetry written in our generation, Frost's is most likely to stand the test of time

My galligaskins, that have long withstood The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts, By time subdued (what will not time subdue!), A horrid chasm disclosed.

Now the wintertime is coming The windows are filled with frost I went to tell everybody But I could not get across Well, I wanna be your lover, baby I don't wanna be your boss Don't say I never warned you When your train gets lost.

My reign is not yet over... you live, and my power is complete. Follow me; I seek the everlasting ices of the north, where you will feel the misery of cold and frost to which I am impassive. You will find near this place, if you follow not too tardily, a dead hare; eat and be refreshed. Come on, my enemy; we have yet to wrestle for our lives; but many hard and miserable hours must you endure until that period shall arrive.

On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence.

Relieved because what I dreaded most in the whole world was going to happen and I wouldn’t have to live with it anymore—the fear. There is the relief of finally not being alone and the relief of being alone when no one can take anything away from you. Here she was, my beautiful fear. Shiny as crystal lace frost.

Remember that frost comes latest to those that bloom the highest.

Remember the goodness of God in the frost of adversity.

Terror itself, when once grown transcendental, becomes a kind of courage; as frost sufficiently intense, according to the poet Milton, will burn.

The first and last frosts are the worst.

The frost which kills the harvest of a year saves the harvest of a century, by destroying the weevil or the locust.

The frost makes a flower, the dew makes a star.

The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.

The people always know that some of the grain will be good, some of the crop will be saved, some will return and bear the strength of the kernel, that from the bloodiest year some survive to outfox the frost.

There is in youth a purity of character which, when once touched and defiled, can never be restored; a fringe more delicate than frost-work, and which, when torn and broken, can never be re-embroidered.

There was something frantic in their blooming, as if they knew that frost was near and then the bitter cold. They'd lived through all the heat and noise and stench of summertime, and now each widely opened flower was like a triumphant cry, "We will, we will make seed before we die.

The third day comes a frost, a killing frost.

Victory comes late-- And is held low to freezing lips-- Too rapt with frost To take it

Two Seasons, it is said, exist- The Summer of the Just, And this of Ours, diversified With Prospect, and with Frost- May not our Second with its First So infinite compare That We but recollect the one The other to prefer?

Were I laid on Greenland's Coast, And in my Arms embrac'd my Lass; Warm amidst eternal Frost, Too soon the Half Year's Night would pass.

When everything that ticked has stopped, and space stares, all around, or grisly frosts, first autumn morns, repeal the beating ground.

Why, what's the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?

When friendships are real, they are not glass threads or frost-work , but the solidest thing we know.

When, in 1966, I progressed to The Frost Report, I was paid ten guineas a minute. I was guaranteed three minutes a week, so this was good money.

You give Frost a message from me. You tell him it's open season on all suckheads.

With five to ten hundred pure-minded young women threading the streets of the village every evening unattended, vice must slink away, like frost before the rising sun.

But frost, like the crystallized dreams of autumn, began to coat the clearing with its sugar glaze.

66/ 'Two roads diverge in a yellow wood,' I think. It didn't ultimately matter which one you took; that was the real point of Frost's poem. The roads were pretty much the same. That stuff about the one less traveled making all the difference was bullshit.

An early frost was in the air tonight. Wind whipped outside the cabin’s basement windows, the last tendrils of late summer disappearing as fall took root. The dismal turn of the weather was a match for Lou’s mood.

De som älskade mest, de som var av kärlek besatta, det var dem som frosten tog.

Despite the heart numbing frost, my soul is blooming like spring.

Dream of the Tundra Swan Dusk fell and the cold came creeping, cam prickling into our hearts. As we tucked beaks into feathers and settled for sleep, our wings knew. That night, we dreamed the journey: ice-blue sky and the yodel of flight, the sun's pale wafer, the crisp drink of clouds. We dreamed ourselves so far aloft that the earth curved beneath us and nothing sang but a whistling vee of light. When we woke, we were covered with snow. We rose in a billow of white.

For winter was coming. The days were shorter, and frost crawled up the window panes at night. Soon the snow would come. Then the log house would be almost buried in snowdrifts, and the lake and the stream would freeze.

Fire and Ice Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.

Frost kills the flowers that bloom out of season...

Frost’s face darkened. “What gives you the right to speak for Miss Hathaway and her family?” Cam saw no reason to be discreet. “I’m going to marry her.” Frost nearly dropped the iron bar. “Don’t be absurd. Amelia would never marry you.” “Why not?” “Good God,” Frost exclaimed incredulously, “how can you ask that? You’re not a gentleman of her class, and … hell and damnation, you’re not even a real Gypsy. You’re a mongrel.” “All the same, I’m going to marry her.” “I’ll see you in hell first!” Frost cried, taking a step toward him. “Either drop that bar,” Cam said quietly, “or I’ll dislocate your arm.” He sincerely hoped Frost would take a swing at him. To his disappointment, Frost set the bar on the ground.

I am filled time and again with a heart-aching wonder when I think of the fire and frost of memories of the everlastingness of love the solace of family and the power of prayer.

Some changes occur suddenly like a brilliant flash of lightning striking across a dark sky. These changes are stunning, exciting but can be quickly forgotten. Other changes happen slowly, gradually, like a flower blooming in early spring, each day unfurling its petals another fraction of an inch towards the warm, nurturing sun. These changes are as inevitable as nature running its course; they’re meant to be.

In judging of that tempestuous wind called Euroclydon," says an old writer - of whose works I possess the only copy extant - "it maketh a marvelous difference, whether thou lookest out at it from a glass window where the frost is all on the outside, or whether thou observest it from that sashless window, where the frost is on both sides, and of which the wight Death is the only glazier."... Euroclydon, nevertheless, is a mighty pleasant zephyr to any one in-doors, with his feet on the hob quietly toasting for bed.

Oh, well, isn't that nice. You are a nice young girl. Be a good friend to her and set her straight. She has love bruises on her neck and didn't come home until this afternoon." Sweet Holy Jesus, why couldn't the ground just swallow me whole? Bones stifled a laugh and nodded solemnly. "Don't fret, Grannie. We're going to a Bible retreat to scare the devil out of her.

It was a black and white day of frost, which crawled along the dark trees and outlined twig and branch. The air was misty, and distant objects assumed a mysterious importance. Slight sounds, too, suggested infinite activities to the mind. ("A Tribute Of Souls")

Syracuse was again ruled by Dionysuis II, the former young philosopher king was now an overbearing and unjust Tyrant.

Behold the groves that shine with silver frost, their beauty withered, and their verdure lost!

The unknown grayish mystifying forest was benumbed into frost-covered cold, and the tremendous pines towering above the dark marshy soil resembled a gathering of severe mute brothers from a forbidden ancient order worshiping forgotten gods no one had ever heard of outside of the world of secret occult visions.

This book by Dr. Yasuda, while ostensibly about haiku, in reality penetrates deeply into the totality of this living spirit of Japan. It deals with those aspects which have produced and maintained haiku into the present day. The important key to understanding comes with the realization that in Japanese art one strives always for the absolute. Of the absolute there is no question of degree; it is either attained or lost. Most often, to be sure, it is not attained, but it is the constant striving toward and awareness of that high goal which gives strength and vitality to this living aesthetic spirit which has so impressed me in Japan. (Robert B. Hall, Foreword, p. x)