[W]hat a severe yet master artist old Winter is…. No longer the canvas and the pigments, but the marble and the chisel. – John Burroughs, “The Snow-Walkers,” 1866

In winter there is no heat, no light, no noon, evening touches morning, there is fog, and mist, the window is frosted, and you cannot see clearly. The sky is but the mouth of a cave. The whole day is the cave…. Frightful season! Winter changes into stone the water of heaven and the heart of man. – Victor Hugo, Les Misérables: Fantine, translated from French by Chas. E. Wi

It is said that in a certain faraway land the cold is so intense that words freeze as soon as they are uttered, and after some time thaw and become audible, so that words spoken in winter go unheard until the next summer. – Author Unknown