Best 53 quotes in «december quotes» category

I go back to December, turn around and make it alright I go back to December, turn around and change my own mind I go back to December all the time

In December 1998, I considered myself an expert on love. I was almost a year into a relationship, one that had grown more slowly than I had wished, but once it flowered it was much more stimulating than any marriage or relationship I had known.

In the suburbs it's hard to buy your Christmas gifts early in the year. You never know who your friends will be in December.

I would anticipate that the Electoral College will be held on the 13th of December, and our 20 electorate votes will go to the certified winner.

I remember, I remember how my childhood fleeted by. The mirth of its December, and the warmth of its July.

Men are April when they woo, December when they wed.

Most of the sighs we hear have been edited.

On December 18, 1940, Hitler signed Directive Number 21, better known as Operation Barbarossa.

On the evening of December 25, General Washington in a most severe season crossed the Delaware with a part of his army, then reduced to less than 2000 men in the whole.

Let us fill urns with rose-leaves in May And hive the the trifty sweetness for December!

On the 1st day of December, 1830, I was confirmed, and in accordance with the word of the Lord I was ordained an Elder under the hands of the Prophet

Remember This December, That love weighs more than gold!

Since learning Transcendental Meditation from Maharishi in December 1967, it has been a valuable practice which has enabled me to go through some very stressful life experiences while remaining centered.

Russell joined the team in December, 1956, following the Olympics.

That's the thing about December: it goes by you in a flash. If you just close your eyes, it's gone. And it's like you were never there.

The agreement to place the binational planning group at our new Northern Command was also signed in December.

The December - January period is the strongest time of the year. It is an easy time to shift states of mind.

To be a Jew is a destiny

Through the chill of December the early winter moans... but it's that January wind that rattles old bones.

We humans appear on the cosmic calendar so recently that our recorded history occupies only the last few seconds of the last minute of December 31st.

Through the small tall bathroom window the December yard is gray and scratchy, the tree calligraphic.

When I'm training in December, I have to eat like 6,000 calories a day to maintain my weight. It's a bit tiring.

When December comes, can The Nutcracker be far behind? No, it cant - not in America, anyway.

Christmas in Barbados I miss being in Barbados in December, That is a time I always remember, The smell of varnish on the wooden floors and the smell of paint on the wooden floors. The smell of cloves as the ham was baked And the smell of the rum in mother’s fruit cake The smell of coconut as she bake de sweetbread, And the smell of the cloth, as she made up de bed

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

What freezings I have felt, what dark days seen, What old December's bareness everywhere!

You want to be playing your best in December and hopefully it'll carry over into January.

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.

December is a bewitching month. The grey of cold teases to explode into something worthwhile, into a dream of cold, a starlight shower you can taste, a cold that does not chill. I've lost my memory of my first snow-- did I gasp at a field of white? Or scream at the freeze untill my cheeks reddened? The crunch underfoot is satisfying and the thrill of virgin snow near leaves.

Eating a meal in Japan is said to be a communion with nature. This particularly holds true for both tea and restaurant kaiseki, where foods at their peak of freshness reflect the seasonal spirit of that month. The seasonal spirit for November, for example, is "Beginning Anew," because according to the old Japanese lunar calendar, November marks the start of the new tea year. The spring tea leaves that had been placed in sealed jars to mature are ready to grind into tea. The foods used for a tea kaiseki should carry out this seasonal theme and be available locally, not flown in from some exotic locale. For December, the spirit is "Freshness and Cold." Thus, the colors of the guests' kimonos should be dark and subdued for winter, while the incense that permeates the tearoom after the meal should be rich and spicy. The scroll David chose to hang in the alcove during the tea kaiseki no doubt depicted winter, through either words or an ink drawing. As for the flowers that would replace the scroll for the tea ceremony, David likely would incorporate a branch of pine to create a subtle link with the pine needle-shaped piece of yuzu zest we had placed in the climactic dish. Both hinted at the winter season and coming of New Year's, one of David's underlying themes for the tea kaiseki. Some of the guests might never make the pine needle connection, but it was there to delight those who did.

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")

I blink January’s lashes and gush down December’s cheeks

Hot cocoa and cold toes remind me of Christmas.

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.

I get so god damn lonely and sad and filled with regrets some days. It overwhelms me as I’m sitting on the bus; watching the golden leaves from a window; a sudden burst of realisation in the middle of the night. I can’t help it and I can’t stop it. I’m alone as I’ve always been and sometimes it hurts…. but I’m learning to breathe deep through it and keep walking. I’m learning to make things nice for myself. To comfort my own heart when I wake up sad. To find small bits of friendship in a crowd full of strangers. To find a small moment of joy in a blue sky, in a trip somewhere not so far away, a long walk an early morning in December, or a handwritten letter to an old friend simply saying ”I thought of you. I hope you’re well.” No one will come and save you. No one will come riding on a white horse and take all your worries away. You have to save yourself, little by little, day by day. Build yourself a home. Take care of your body. Find something to work on. Something that makes you excited, something you want to learn. Get yourself some books and learn them by heart. Get to know the author, where he grew up, what books he read himself. Take yourself out for dinner. Dress up for no one but you and simply feel nice. it’s a lovely feeling, to feel pretty. You don’t need anyone to confirm it. I get so god damn lonely and sad and filled with regrets some days, but I’m learning to breathe deep through it and keep walking. I’m learning to make things nice for myself. Slowly building myself a home with things I like. Colors that calm me down, a plan to follow when things get dark, a few people I try to treat right. I don’t sometimes, but it’s my intent to do so. I’m learning.I’m learning to make things nice for myself. I’m learning to save myself. I’m trying, as I always will.

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.

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.

Michigan isn't just cold in December; it's artic.

I miss being in Barbados in December, That is a time I always remember, The smell of varnish on the wooden floors, And the smell of paint on the wooden doors The crowds in de Supermarket, Buying up the rum, And the music blasting Puh rup a pum pum

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?

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.

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!

Christmas is a poor excuse every 25th of December to pick a man's pockets.

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

...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...

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.

Advertising spending continues to be somewhat choppy in our markets, but we do not view December's results as indicative of a trend in advertising performance going forward.

During my work there I came across some very significant issues that I started reporting in December of 2001 to the mid-level management within the FBI.

December 25th has become guilt and obligation.

Having contemplated this admirable grove, I proceeded towards the shrubberies on the banks of the river, and though it was now late in December, the aromatic groves appeared in full bloom.