“Slowly, quietly, like snow-flakes—like the small flakes that come when it is going to snow all night—little flakes of me, my impressions, my selections, are settling down on the image of her. The real shape wil be quite hidden in the end.”
“No snow flake ever falls in the wrong place”
“One would say, to see all these snow-flakes fall, that there was a plague of white butterflies in heaven.”
“As tiny silver flakes drifted down to settle on our bodies---Both the living and the dead---I thought perhaps the moon had hidden her face from us, as full of sorrow as we were. But she couldn't stop her tears from spilling out in the form of silent snow.”
“The falling flakes were random and without purpose; the snow was drunker than she was.”
“Are ye the ghosts of fallen leaves, O flakes of snow, For which, through naked trees, the winds A-mourning go?”