“Advice is like snow; the softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon, and the deeper it sinks into the mind.”

“His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.”

“We started dying before the snow, and like the snow, we continued to fall.”

“A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.”

“She began to feel sacred, scared and the voices came and went and her body became brittle, falling, drying, like cold Annihilation, like blue crystal spectrum light, sinking but white. To Nurture, Mist thought, falling cold white crystals, forming, while dying. Returning, falling sky, dying, and finally, on her cold white body, she felt...Snow.”

“Let every student of nature take this as a rule,-- that whatever his mind seizes and dwells upon with peculiar satisfaction is to be held in suspicion.”