A Quote by John J. Geddes

December's wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer's memory. — © John J. Geddes
December's wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer's memory.
You throw a stone into a deep pond. Splash. The sound is big, and it reverberates throughout the surrounding area. What comes out of the pond after that? All we can do is stare at the pond, holding our breath.
Celebration is life's frosting: isn't frosting the very best part of the cake?
A great song has to stand on its own, just singing and playing, and the rest is frosting. But you have to pay attention to the frosting.
Frosting Freedom Is just frosting On somebody else's Cake-- And so must be Till we Learn how to Bake.
I love roast chicken, juicy summer tomatoes, and carrot cake slathered with tangy cream-cheese frosting.
When the snow is still blowing against the window-pane in January and February and the wild winds are howling without, what pleasure it is to plan for summer that is to be.
Paint should not be applied thick. It should be like a breath on the surface of a pane of glass.
I'm a summer baby, so I usually have my birthday as a good summer memory.
I had become so quiet and so small in the grass by the pond that I was barely noticeable, hardly there... I sat there watching their living room shining out of the dark beside the pond. It looked like a fairy tale functioning happily in the post-World War II gothic of America before television crippled the imagination of America and turned people indoors and away from living out their own fantasies with dignity... Anyway, I just kept getting smaller and smaller beside the pond, more and more unnoticed in the darkening summer grass until I disappeared into the 32 years that have passed since then.
God gave us memory so that we might have roses in December.
There was her face, like a summer peach, beautiful and warm, and the light of the candles reflected in her dark eyes. [He] held his breath. The entire world waited and held its breath.
The winter is forbidden till December, And exits March the second on the dot. By order summer lingers through September In Camelot.
I fell for her in summer, my lovely summer girl, From summer she is made, my lovely summer girl, I’d love to spend a winter with my lovely summer girl, But I’m never warm enough for my lovely summer girl, It’s summer when she smiles, I’m laughing like a child, It’s the summer of our lives; we’ll contain it for a while She holds the heat, the breeze of summer in the circle of her hand I’d be happy with this summer if it’s all we ever had.
It is the middle and pure height and whole of summer and a summer night, the held breath, of a planet's year; high shored sleeps the crested tide: what day of the month I do not know, which day of the week I am not sure, far less what hour of the night.
December drops no weak, relenting tear, By our fond summer sympathies ensnared; Nor from the perfect circle of the year Can even winter's crystal gems be spared.
December is the most difficult month. Medications for insomnia or depression go up during the month of December. A lot of people who experience loss feel that loss magnified in December. Everybody seems happy and you feel all alone. You're not all alone.
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