Now is the winter of our discontent.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Where does discontent start? You are warm enough, but you shiver. You are fed, yet hunger gnaws you. You have been loved, but your yearning wanders in new fields. And to prod all these there's time, the Bastard Time.
We are never more discontented with others than when we are discontented with ourselves.
All our discontents about what we want appeared to spring from the want of thankfulness for what we have.
Many human beings say that they enjoy the winter, but what they really enjoy is feeling proof against it.
We can no longer let the threat of an early frost send a chill of fear throughout a large portion of our workforce. Diversification is the only answer.
Winter is not a season, it's an occupation.
While I relish our warm months, winter forms our character and brings out our best.
Winter is a season of recovery and preparation.
The sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality.
Let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius.