Our destiny often looks like a fruit-tree in winter. Who would think from its pitiable aspect that those rigid boughs, those rough twigs could next spring again be green, bloom, and even bear fruit? Yet we hope it, we know it. – Johann Wolfgang Goethe, Wilhelm Meister’s Travels, translated from German
![[W]hat a severe yet master artist old Winter is.... No longer the [W]hat a severe yet master artist old Winter is.... No longer the](/quote/severe-master-artist-winter-longer.jpg)
[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
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All sounds are sharper in winter; the air transmits better. At night I hear more distinctly the steady roar of the North Mountain. In summer it is a sort of complacent purr, as the breezes stroke down its sides; but in winter always the same low, sullen growl. – John Burroughs, “The Snow-Walkers,” 1866
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Random Quotes
Last night, there came a frost, which has done great damage to my garden…. It is sad that Nature will play such tricks on us poor mortals, inviting us with sunny smiles to confide in her, and then, when we are entirely within her power, striking us to the heart. – Nathaniel Hawthorne, The American Notebooks
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