City Snow Quotes

#1. Dana's window? More like her snow globe, Janice thought. She pictured Dana standing in a tiny glass-enclosed world, snow gently falling around her. Her world could be shaken but never broken. She was far too insulated.

Lynn Steward

#2. The City is free of sin
The snow has given it absolution
A man who slips
A horse that falls
Oh no, the city is in a nightgown

Pierre Albert-Birot

#3. He was from upstate New York. Albany or something. A small city so buried in snow it looked flat white in satellite pictures for a third of the year.

C.D. Reiss

#4. World's flying like birds; my car's in flight. The city lights are spattered on my windshield like the fragments of the night. And I'm in flight. The sky's a wheel, a merry-go-round of wings and snow and steel, and fire. We'll tread the sky, we'll ride the scarlet horses.

Tanith Lee

#5. Everyone in Seattle is a total pussy when it comes to snow. The whole city shut down, the place looked like an apocalyptic movie.

Hamilton Leithauser

#6. When men were all asleep the snow came flying, In large white flakes falling on the city brown, Stealthily and perpetually settling and loosely lying, Hushing the latest traffic of the drowsy town.

Robert Bridges

#7. In Snow Country, Yasunari Kawabata, the first of Japan's two Nobel laureates, describes the sad and sorry love affair of a geisha from the country and an intellectual from the city. It's

Nancy Pearl

#8. Never been here before. It's like something on the top floor of a luxury high-rise casino in Atlantic City, where they put semi-retarded adults from South Philly after they've blundered into the mega jackpot Hiro Protagonist - Snow Crash

Neal Stephenson

#9. I hope the snow covers everything so all the footsteps are silenced, and the whole city can be at peace.

Brian Selznick

#10. Oh where, oh where had Snow White gone?
She'd found it easy, being pretty
To hitch a ride into the city.

Roald Dahl

#11. Let every man shovel out his own snow, and the whole city will be passable," said Gamache. Seeing Beauvoir's puzzled expression he added, "Emerson."
"Lake and Palmer?"
"Ralph and Waldo.

Louise Penny

#12. It was April in Minneapolis and snowing, the flakes coming down in thick swirls enchanting the city

Cheryl Strayed

#13. All these threads, like the ley-lines he'd read about in his Time-Life history books, converging on the Cicciaro girl, who lay there unaware, a glass-coffined beauty whose kingdom was in ruins.

Garth Risk Hallberg

#14. The snowflakes start falling and I start to float
Till my mean older brother stuffs snow down my coat

Owl City

#15. A city where everyone seemed to live in a bungalow on a broad avenue lined with palm, pepper or eucalyptus trees, where there was never any snow.

Kevin Starr

#16. For me, it feels like driving from truth into a lie, from adulthood to childhoold. I watch the land of pavement and glass and metal turn into an empty field. The snow is falling softly now, and I can faintly see the city's skyline up ahead, the buildings just a shade darker than the clouds.

Veronica Roth

#17. Snow, the Dnieper ... there's no more beautiful city in the world than Kiev.

Mikhail Bulgakov

#18. I stood at the end of the street, catching snow in my mouth, and laughed softly to myself as I realized that without my insomnia and anxiety and pain I'd never have been awake to see the city that never sleeps asleep and blanketed up for winter. I smiled and felt silly, but in the best possible way.

Jenny Lawson

#19. It was Russia, January 5, 1943, and just another icy day. Out among the city and snow, there were dead Russians and Germans everywhere. Those who remained were firing into the blank pages in front of them. Three languages interwove. The Russian, the bullets, the German.

Markus Zusak

#20. Snow always inspires such awe in me. Just consider one tiny snowflake alone, so delicate, so fragile, so ethereal. And yet, let a billion of them come together through the majestic force of nature, they can screw up a whole city.

Betty White

#21. Union of the weakest develops strength not wisdom. Can all men, together, avenge one of the leaves that have fallen in autumn? But the wise man avenges by building his city in snow.

Wallace Stevens

#22. I gave three quiet cheers for Minnesota. In Seattle a dusty inch of anything white and chilly means the city lapses into full-on panic mode, as if each falling flake crashes to earth with its own individual baggie of used hypodermic needles. It's ridiculous.

Cherie Priest

#23. We were up the whole night just talking, walking the city. You can walk those blocks forever, take a break on the edge of the fountain, eat pizza and snow cones, awed by the human carnival all around you.

Marisha Pessl

#24. It was the soul of the machine, the ethological epicentre, the planetary ground zero of their commercial energy. I could almost feel it, shivering down like bomb-blasted rivers of glass from these undreaming towers of dark and light invading the snow-dark sky.

Iain M. Banks

#25. The snow had done what even wizards and the Watch couldn't do, which was clean up Ankh-Morpork. It hadn't had time to get dirty. In the morning it'd probably look as though the city had been covered in coffee meringue, but for now it mounded the bushes and trees in pure white.

Terry Pratchett

#26. Outside, the dark brushed the city and the wind unleashed the snow

Colum McCann

#27. In February of 1972, a snowstorm blew into Kansas City, and I decided to hitchhike to California. The roads were icy, snowflakes howling, and nobody would drive me to the highway, so I humped through the snow and ice and caught a ride with a concerned cop to the Kansas Turnpike.

Daniel Woodrell

#28. Snowmageddon.
Dirty glacial clouds hammered the city's anvil. On the District of Columbia's northwestern edge, gusts of snow rolled across the Park Road Bridge like volcanic ash.

Simon Conway

#29. They were playing old Bob Dylan, more than perfect for narrow Village streets close to Christmas and the snow whirling down in big feathery flakes, the kind of winter where you want to be walking down a city street with your arm around a girl like on the old record cover

Donna Tartt

#30. Feathers fell from the sky. Like black snow, they drifted onto an old city called Bath.

Stefan Bachmann

#31. Beyond the snowy trees, the endless high-rises of Seoul have faded to a blurry gray shadow, but their presence hasn't dwindled. Even in the poor visibility, there's no denying that the city feels like the walls of a fortress, a fortress that is both protecting us and trapping us.

Paula Stokes

#32. She had taken the life of the one that had taken her mother's. She had avenged her brother's death. She was a hunter now. But Mother would never know and Wolfsbane would hunt alone. Their kind, the last humans of the Wylder Mountains, would fade into the snow like the majik of the Lost City.

Jennifer Silverwood

#33. She'd arrived a self-sufficient city woman, and now she was covered in snow, sitting on a bench beside a crazy person, and she had a duck on her lap. Who was nuts now?

Louise Penny