31 December Quotes
I wander forth this chill December dawn: John Frost and all his elves are out, I see, As busy as the elfin world can be, Clothing a world asleep with fleecy lawn.
Contemporary American children, if they are old enough to grasp the concept of Santa Claus by Thanksgiving, are able to see through it by December 15th.
The nicest characters in A Week in December research are, in fact, Muslims - and their religious devotion is one of the things that defines them.
I go back to December, turn around and make it alright I go back to December, turn around and change my own mind I go back to December all the time
My final historical romance came out December 2005. While I enjoyed writing medieval romances, I was also dying to write something with more edge.
Actually, my ideal life would be to have an evergreen tree farm and, every December, I'd load them up and just stand out on the street and sell Christmas trees.
Someone asked me when is my birthday?The poet inside me replied, "My birthday is on the last day of the year, It's 31st December my dear!
I watched you storm towards the restaurant door. It was a chilly December morning and the birds sitting on the high wires in the neighborhood refused to fly any longer.
There was warmth in his large piercing brown eyes. The kind of warmth that tucks a child into bed. The same kind of warmth that dries your wet hair on a rainy December afternoon.
You can be freak of the week, critical thinker & a domestic goddess all in one. There is a beauty in your layers, never dumb yourself down.
December's wintery breath is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring summer's memory...
Why are you smoking? Why are you smoking so much? This isn't you...""You were my old addiction, so smoking became my new one.
I heard a bird sing in the dark of December. A magical thing. And sweet to remember. We are nearer to Spring than we were in September. I heard a bird sing in the dark of December.
You were too busy chasing unrequited love that you forgot you could be beautiful to someone.
It's time I stopped looking for men and time I start looking for me. Then I'll find the happiness I've always wanted.
There is October in every November and there is November in every December! All seasons melted in each other’s life!
It was snowing. It was always snowing at Christmas. December, in my memory, is white as Lapland, though there were no reindeers. But there were cats.
There must be something ghostly in the air of Christmas — something about the close, muggy atmosphere that draws up the ghosts, like the dampness of the summer rains brings out the frogs and snails.
By December an elastic skin of ice reached out hundreds of miles into the sea, rolling with every wave.
December, being the last month of the year, cannot help but make us think of what is to come.