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Winter is ruthless and sometimes sullen and murderous. The wild winter North has gulped ten thousand summers down nor left a froth of sunshine on its lips.
William Alfred Quayle
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William Alfred Quayle
Age: 65 †
Born: 1860
Born: January 1
Died: 1925
Died: January 1
Biographer
Poet
Parkville
Missouri
Summer
Sullen
Thousand
Ruthless
Left
Sunshine
Sometimes
North
Wild
Gulped
Winter
Froth
Ten
Murderous
Lips
Summers
More quotes by William Alfred Quayle
Winter is on the road to spring. Some think it a surly road. I do not. A primrose road to spring were not as engaging to my heart as a frozen icicled craggy way angered over by strong winds that never take the iron trumpets from their lips.
William Alfred Quayle
Winter is not an end. It is in transit. It is headed to bankruptcy. The sheriff will sell its stock for what he can get and an ice man will be the only bidder at the sale.
William Alfred Quayle
Winter's notion of poetry is tragedy. It knows nothing of comedy. Its laughter was frozen on its lips long ago.
William Alfred Quayle
Frankly, the trouble with winter is, it is all backbone. It is fleshless, insensate, with neither a breast to be leaned on nor a heart to love and ache and, if need be, break, nor any kindly hand to fondle and caress like a sea-wave on a sunny shore half asleep.
William Alfred Quayle