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

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 blood. – John Burroughs, “The Snow-Walkers,” 1866

Spring, summer, and fall fill us with hope; winter alone reminds us of the human condition. – Mignon McLaughlin, The Second Neurotic’s Notebook, 1966

It is the life of the crystal, the architect of the flake, the fire of the frost, the soul of the sunbeam. This crisp winter air is full of it. – John Burroughs, “Winter Sunshine”