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— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow"Winter giveth the fields, and the trees so old, their beards of icicles and snow."
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You must not think That we are made of stuff so fat and dull That we can let our beard be shook with danger And think it pastime.
— William Shakespeare
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Who was the Thief that she would love him? A youth, just a boy with hardly a beard and no sense at all... A liar, she thought, an enemy, a threat. He was brave, a voice inside her said, he was loyal... A fool, she answered back. A fool and a dead one. She ached with emptiness.
— Megan Whalen Turner
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