We shouldn't forget that in the case of Georgia, a problem was done away with that bothered [Vladimir] Putin personally - that is, the security during the Winter Olympics in Sochi in 2014. Security not in the sense of a guaranteed absence of a terror attack, but in pursuing the aim of moving hot spots of possible conflict farther from the site of the Olympic Games, which are to be held a stone's throw from Abkhazia - that is, in de jure Georgia.
Decade after decade, artists came to paint the light of Provincetown, and comparisons were made to the lagoons of Venice and the marshes of Holland, but then the summer ended and most of the painters left, and the long dingy undergarment of the gray New England winter, gray as the spirit of my mood, came down to visit.
When I'm down on energy, I have these superfoods powders with supergreens, algae, spirulina, and wheat germ extract. Sometimes I have a course of vitamins. For example, in autumn I'm going to start shots of B12 and biotin. For me this is really important because I travel so much. My lifestyle is quite challenging and this is something that supplements me before winter starts, which is a difficult time for your body.
We kiss. Her hands are freezing on my face, and she tastes like coffee and the smell of the onion is still stuck in my nose, and my lips are all dry from the endless winter. And it's awesome.
It was an overcast late November morning, the grass splintered by hoarfrost, and winter grinning through the gaps in the clouds like a bad clown peering through the curtains before the show begins.
Hearts with one purpose aloneThrough summer and winter seemEnchanted to a stoneTo trouble the living stream.
As I write, snow is falling outside my Maine window, and indoors all around me half a hundred garden catalogues are in bloom.
In the summer there are twelve cottonwoods around the pool, which in the winter become an elevated thicket. There is also a courtyard with a small garden of plants that stay green all year. The winter is bleak. This place is primarily for the installation of art, necessarily for whatever architecture of my own that can be included in an existing situation, for work, and altogether for my idea of living.
Twenty-five, he was. Twenty-five tomorrow. Some years the snow had melted for his birthday, but not this year, and so it had been a long winter full of cows.
Winter broke off, finally, a long ash crumbling at the end of a cigarette, burned out, weak and emptied.
The Canadian Identity, it seems, is truly elusive only at home. Beyond the borders Canadians know exactly who they are, within they see themselves as part of a family, a street, a neighbourhood, a community, a province , a region, and on special occasions like Canada Day and Grey Cup weekend and, of course, during the Winter Olympics, a country called Canada. Beyond the borders, they pine; within the borders, they more often whine
There is lace in every living thing: the bare branches of winter, the patterns of clouds, the surface of water as it ripples in the breeze. . . . Even a wild dog's matted fur shows a lacy pattern if you look at it closely enough.
Exploration is the physical expression of the Intellectual Passion. And I tell you, if you have the desire for knowledge and the power to give it physical expression, go out and explore. . . . If you march your Winter Journeys you will have your reward, so long as all you want is a penguin's egg.
This would be nice when we baptize people in the winter.
As white snowflakes fall quietly and thickly on a winter day, answers to prayer will settle down upon you at every step you take, even to your dying day. The story of your life will be the story of prayer and answers to prayer.
Ambassador Winters, allow me to introduce my aunt Abby and her. . . . boyfriend. ' Townsed tensed. Abby glared. And Rebecca Baxter looked like she was going to choke on her chewing gum.
In winter I go skiing on Saturdays and Sundays when the slopes are quieter due to changeover day for tourists, and in summer I hike up into the mountains at sunset, just as the village is settling down to dinner.
And it seemed to me that there were fires Flying till dawn without number And I never found out things-those Strange eyes of his-what colour? Everything trembling and singing and Were you my enemy or my friend, Winter was it or summer?
As winter strips the leaves from around us, so that we may see the distant regions they formerly concealed, so old age takes away our enjoyments only to enlarge the prospect of the coming eternity.
The days are short, The sun a spark Hung thin between The dark and dark.