Time for the weather report. It's cold out folks. Bonecrushing cold. The kind of cold which will wrench the spirit out of a young man, or forge it into steel.

Listen, can you hear it? Spring's sweet cantata. The strains of grass pushing through the snow. The song of buds swelling on the vine. The tender timpani of a baby robin's heart. Spring.

—Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider

It's just human. We all have the jungle inside of us. We all have wants and needs and desires, strange as they may seem. If you stop to think about it, we're all pretty creative, cooking up all these fantasies. it's like a kind of poetry.

—Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider

You bluffed me! I don't like it when people bluff me. It makes me question my perception of reality.

—Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider

Trees like to have kids climb on them, but trees are much bigger than we are, and much more forgiving.

—Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider

Barometer, n.: An ingenious instrument which indicates what kind of weather we are having.

—Ambrose Bierce

When all is said and done, the weather and love are the two elements about which one can never be sure.

—Alice Hoffman

Climate is what we expect, weather is what we get.

—Mark Twain

Painting, n.: The art of protecting flat surfaces from the weather, and exposing them to the critic.

—Ambrose Bierce

A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water.

—Carl Reiner