When Chekhov saw the long winter, he saw a winter bleak and dark and bereft of hope. Yet we know that winter is just another step in the cycle of life. But standing here among the people of Punxsutawney and basking in the warmth of their hearths and hearts, I couldn't imagine a better fate than a long and lustrous winter.
You want a prediction about the weather, you're asking the wrong Phil. I'll give you a winter prediction: It's gonna be cold, it's gonna be grey, and it's gonna last you for the rest of your life.
Today is the day.
Phil - "Uh, Mrs. Lancaster, uh, was anybody looking for me here this morning? Perhaps a state official? Maybe a blue hat, gun, nightstick?"
Mrs. Lancaster - "Oh, no, no one like that. Will there be?"
Phil - "Apparently not."