Chilly Quote by Jessica Mitford

“Growing up in the English countryside seemed an interminable process. Freezing winter gave way to frosty spring, which in turn merged into chilly summer-but nothing ever, ever happened.” quote by Jessica Mitford — Download Open image

“Growing up in the English countryside seemed an interminable process. Freezing winter gave way to frosty spring, which in turn merged into chilly summer-but nothing ever, ever happened.”

Jessica Mitford

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Chilly Climate Countryside English countryside Freezing Growing Growing up Happened Process Spring Summer Turns Way Winter

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Explore all 28 Jessica Mitford quotes

More Chilly quotes

Losing is the bane and bugbear of every professional athlete's existence, but in baseball the monster seems to hang closer than in other sports, its chilly claws and foul breath palpable around the neck hairs of the infielder bending for his crosshand scoop or the reliever slipping his first two fingers off-center on the ball seams before delivering his two-and-two…

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Where is the world whose people don't prefer a comfortable, warm, and well-worn belief, however illogical, to the chilly winds of uncertainty.

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As a child, my father's architecture seemed to me to be industrial in a way. It seemed harsh and kind of chilly; I didn't…

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I love the joy of mountains Wandering free with no concerns Every day I find food for this old body There's leisure for thinking,…

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'Tis spring; come out to ramble The hilly brakes around, For under thorn and bramble About the hollow ground The primroses are found. And…

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Billy, in one of his nice new sashes, Fell in the fire and was burnt to ashes; Now, although the room grows chilly, I…

Harry Graham

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Despite having been awarded the dubious honor of arthood, all photography is still perceived as having one foot in the real world, a toe…

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Through the sharp air a flaky torrent flies, Mocks the slow sight, and hides the gloomy skies; The fleecy clouds their chilly bosoms bare,…

George Crabbe

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I remain faithful to bourbon sour. It's absolutely delicious. You'd have to ask a bartender what's in it, but I think if you know…

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Wrapped in his sad-colored cloak, the Day, like a Puritan, standeth Stern in the joyless fields, rebuking the lingering color,-- Dying hectic of leaves and the chilly blue of the asters,-- Hearing, perchance, the croak of a crow on the desolate tree-top.

Bayard Taylor