欧宝娱乐

“As we are standing on a dazzling cliff, overwhelmed by a blizzard of unanswered questions, the alarming immaterialities of our living may cry out to us and our consciousness may ask us to account for what we are doing or for what we have not done. This may be the instant we might engineer our future with destiny. (
"Sisyphus on the hill")”
― Erik Pevernagie

“Let us keep walking up the happy rainbow of trust and compassion, even if a blizzard of suspicion may sometimes fray it, and let us believe in the positive quality of connectedness.
("Le ciel c'est l'autre")”
― Erik Pevernagie

“There's an Edna St. Vincent Millay poem that's been rumbling around inside me ever since I first read it, and part of it goes: 'Blown from the dark hill hither to my door/ Three flakes, then four/ Arrive, then many more.' You can count the first three flakes, and the fourth. Then language fails, and you have to settle in and try to survive the blizzard”
― John Green, Turtles All the Way Down

“It snowed all week. Wheels and footsteps moved soundlessly on the street, as if the business of living continued secretly behind a pale but impenetrable curtain. In the falling quiet there was no sky or earth, only snow lifting in the wind, frosting the window glass, chilling the rooms, deadening and hushing the city. At all hours it was necessary to keep a lamp lighted, and Mrs. Miller lost track of the days: Friday was no different from Saturday and on Sunday she went to the grocery: closed, of course.”
― Truman Capote, American Fantastic Tales: Terror and the Uncanny from the 1940s to Now

“Trees lose their leaves in blizzards like these.”
― Ashly Lorenzana

“Snow as fine and grainy as sugar covered the windows in and sifted off to the floor and did not melt.”
― Laura Ingalls Wilder, On the Banks of Plum Creek

“From the shadow of domes in the city of domes,
A snowflake, a blizzard of one, weightless, entered your room
And made its way to the arm of the chair where you, looking up
From your book, saw it the moment it landed. That's all
There was to it.”
― Mark Strand, Blizzard of One

“one day you stepped in snow, the next in mud, water soaked in your boots and froze them at night, it was the next worst thing to pure blizzardry, it was weather that wouldn't let you settle.”
― E.L. Doctorow, Welcome to Hard Times

“Moving the kids was not a good idea, but I sure wanted to see nuns in monster trucks plowing their way through a blizzard.”
― Dean Koontz, Brother Odd

“On my bedside table is a snow globe with a winterscape inside.
Church, park bench, girl standing shin-deep in snow. Tip the snow globe over and a blizzard of slow snow falls over church and bench and girl. What is it about snow globes that makes them fascinating and terrifying at once?

My heart lurches at the thought of the snow-globe girl waiting endlessly, with only the hope of a new snow blizzard to settle on her mantle when the next person tips her snow-globe world over. Not a gust of breeze may ruffle her skirt, not a bird may perch atop the steeple. The only way out of a snow globe is by shattering the glass dome that is its sky.”
― Amruta Patil, Kari

“You are like the beach at dawn when the fog comes in; each of those things is lovely on its own, but together, they can be magical.”
― Deborah Blake, Dangerously Divine

“The blizzard seemed to be dying down, and it was now possible to enjoy the sight of the buildings and embankments and bridges smothered in the diamond-dusted whiteness. There's always something soothing in the snow, thought Gabriel, a promise of happiness and absolution, of a new start on a clean sheet. Snow redesigned the streets with hints of another architecture, even more magnificent, more fanciful than it already was, all spires and pinnacles on pale palaces of pearl and opal. All that New Venice should have been reappeared through its partial disappearance. It was as if the city were dreaming about itself and crystallizing both that dream and the ethereal unreality of it. He wallowed in the impression, badly needing it right now, knowing it would not last as he hobbled nearer to his destination.”
― Jean-Christophe Valtat, Aurorarama

“It fell like powdered sugar, brittle, yet airy and without direction as it covered the land under an unforgiving tomb.”
― H.S. Crow

“The blizzard, created when an enormous trough of cold air rushing in from the Arctic had met up with an equally enormous influx of warm, wet air from the gulf, gobbled up everything in its path. The collision generated a force of energy no one could remember seeing in their lifetimes, but that all would talk about with wonder until the day they died.”
― Melanie Benjamin, The Children's Blizzard

“It was snowing when I got off the bus at Flax Hill. Not quite regular snowfall, not exactly a blizzard. This is how it was: The snow came down heavily, settled for about a minute, then the wind moved it - more rolled it, really - onto another target. One minute you were covered in snow, then it sped off sideways, as if a brisk, invisible giant had taken pity and brushed you down.”
― Helen Oyeyemi, Boy, Snow, Bird

“Camden in the winter of 1954 was a bleak place. It is difficult to see it this way if you鈥檝e only been there in the summer, but most of Maine can be dismal, especially along the coast, during the long nights and short days. Once the colorful leaves have fallen from the majestic maple trees, and the last tourist has gone home, things become grim. So it was, during that cold January day, when I was on the road hoping to get a ride to New Jersey. On the radio, the weather forecasters predicted an overnight blizzard, but here it was only late afternoon and snow was already accumulating on the road. This would be my last opportunity to get home to see my family and friends, before cruising back on down to the Caribbean. I had really hoped to get an earlier start, to get far enough south to miss the brunt of the storm. Maine is known for this kind of weather, and the snowplows and sanders were ready. In fact, I didn鈥檛 see many other vehicles on the road any longer. Schools had let out early and most businesses were closed in anticipation of the storm.
My last ride dropped me off in Belfast, telling me that he was trying to get as far as Augusta, before State Road 3 became impassable. Standing alongside the two-lane coastal highway with darkness not far off, I was half thinking that I should turn back. My mind was made up for me when I stepped back off the road, making room for a big State DOT dump truck with a huge yellow snowplow. His airbrakes wheezed as he braked, coming to a stop, at the same time lifting his plow to keep from burying me. The driver couldn鈥檛 believe that I was out hitchhiking in a blizzard. This kind of weather in Maine is no joke! The driver told me that the year before a body had been found under a snow bank during the spring thaw. Never mind, I was invincible and nothing like that could happen to me, or so I thought. He got me as far as Camden and suggested that I get a room. 鈥淭his storm is only going to get worse,鈥� he cautioned as I got off. I waved as he drove off. Nevertheless, still hoping that things would improve, I was determined to continue鈥�”
― Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater One...."

“The most dangerous weather condition that I experienced at high altitude was walking out of the observatory to check on astronomers in another building during a snow blizzard. When I was returning to the observatory the conditions progressed to white out, stranding me in a nighttime snow field. I was only able to return to the safety of the observatory by following my footprints in the snow with the flashlight.”
― Steven Magee

“The Hibernal Realm by Stewart Stafford

The compass knows not which way to go,
And Life's submerged in winter's snow,
The path before us fit for sleds,
Dusted with a blizzard's web.

Clear a path and the light the way,
And get us through to break of day,
Step through the ice-encrusted door,
That shows the way to the dawn thaw.

Stay too long in the hibernal realm,
And the chill begins to overwhelm,
Sit, rest, and take respite,
And become at one with fading light.

See The Winter King and then bow down,
With frostbite smile and holly crown,
Icicle sceptre makes the heartbeat slow,
Lonely as the North wind blows.

漏 Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“A Keyring Turns The Map Time Out Inna Ramadali's Gift...”
― Jonathan McKinney

“The 6th Pylon To The Gateway Secret Of The Dark Templar: I speak the words Binding2 Ruins5 Oldin2 Nexus1 : 2-5+2+1 = 6: Construct Additional Pylons...”
― Jonathan McKinney

“Inna Whorl Turn Ring A Portal Rifts A Vortex, The Key To The Past Maps The Future”
― Jonathan McKinney

“...And So It Came To Pass, Inna Whorl Turn Ring A Portal Rifts A Vortex, The Key Sages A Gift, And The Past Maps The Future, To The East...Always To The East...”
― Jonathan Roy Mckinney

“Inna Map Mapped A Key, Inna Sage Saged A Gift, Inna Whorl Turn Ring A Portal Rifts A Vortex...”
― Jonathan Roy Mckinney

“Space Time : Inna Map Mapped A Key, Inna Sage Saged A Gift, Inna Whorl Turn Ring A Portal Rifts A Vortex...”
― Jonathan Roy Mckinney

“Space Element Time Set: Fire Turns Portals Inna Vortex Rift Key, Wind Maps Whorls Inna Puzzle Cube Ring, Water Sages Inna's Set Earth's Oak Tree”
― Jonathan Roy Mckinney

“OUT-Source.Expansion.Test.Underground.Passage SET UP: Fire Of Light, Sage Of Earth, Gift Of Winds, Water Of Xora, Sacred Globes, Staff Of Apocalypse, Quad Abstract, Square, Circle, Rectangle, Resistances.”
― Jonathan Roy Mckinney

“Horadric Elders Risen Order Elements Set "Heroes" Fire, Earth, Water, Air Rings: The Stone Flame Ring, The Whorl Turn Ring, The Sacred Globe Ring, The Cold Ring Of Aegis.”
― Jonathan Roy Mckinney

“Horadric Elder Risen Order Elemental Set" Fire, Water, Earth, Air Rings Of Heroes: The Stone Ring Of Apocalypse, The Sacred Globe Ring, The Whorl Turn Ring, The Cold Ring Of Aegis.”
― Jonathan Roy Mckinney

“Horadrim Elder's Risen Order Elemental Set" Fire, Water, Earth, Air Rings Of Heroes: The Golden Apocalyptic Ring, The Sacred Globe Ring, The Stone Of Aegis Ring, The Whorl Turn Ring.”
― Jonathan Roy Mckinney

“We lay in the tent for three days while the blizzard yelled at us, a three-day-long, wordless, hateful yell from the unbreathing lungs.

"It'll drive me to screaming back," I said to Estraven in mind-speech, and he, with the hesitant formality that marked his rapport: "No use. It will not listen.”
― Ursula K. Le Guin, The Left Hand of Darkness