Of course that is not the whole story, but that is the way with stories; we make them what we will. It’s a way of explaining the universe while leaving the universe unexplained, it’s a way of keeping it all alive, not boxing it into time. Everyone who tells a story tells it differently, just to remind us that everybody sees it differently.
— Jeanette Winterson, Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit.
(via
kuanios)
Yet for all its coldness,
there’s a tenderness in winter too, making us cover
what we can no longer bare.
— Carole Glasser Langille, from “Next Month Snow,” In Cannon Cave (Brick Books, 1997)