"December" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... see yet without spectacles, and I see no such matter: there's her cosin, and she were not possest with a furie, exceedes her as much in beautie, as the first of Maie doth the last of December: but I hope you haue no intent to turne husband, haue you? Clau. I would scarce trust my selfe, though I had sworne the contrarie, if Hero would ...
— The First Folio [35 Plays] • William Shakespeare
... needed, and I knew no fears. But sleep, though sweet, is only sleep; and waking, I waked to sleep no more; at once o'ertaking The vanguard of my age, with all arrears Of duty on my back. Nor child, nor man, Nor youth, nor sage, I find my head is gray, For I have lost the race I never ran: A rathe December blights my lagging May; And still I am a child, though I be old: Time is my debtor ...
— The Home Book of Verse, Vol. 1 (of 4) • Various
... We left Portsmouth in December 1839. It was bitter winter. The day we sailed, such was the severity of the gale and snowstorm, that we had to put back and anchor at St. Helens in the Isle of Wight. The next night we were at sea. It happened to be my middle watch. I had to turn out of my hammock at twelve to walk the ...
— Tracks of a Rolling Stone • Henry J. Coke
... shadow which the clouds of the outward sky fling through the room. Blessed, therefore, and reverently welcomed by me, her true-born son, be New England's winter, which makes us one and all the nurslings of the storm and sings a familiar lullaby even in the wildest shriek of the December blast. Now look we forth again and see how much of his task the storm-spirit ...
— Twice Told Tales • Nathaniel Hawthorne
... too cold, even under most of the contents of my pack, to sleep soundly. It was December and the days were short for tramping. This one did not begin to break until six and I had been awake and ready since three. Coronado slept on, but his senora arose and, covering her breasts with a small apron, took to grinding corn for tortillas. These with coffee and two eggs dropped ...
— Tramping Through Mexico, Guatemala and Honduras - Being the Random Notes of an Incurable Vagabond • Harry A. Franck
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