Quotes About Seasons

I can't divorce myself from my childhood. I try to write as much fiction as I possibly can, but there are so many things that are touchstones of my childhood like being on the swim team and playing soccer and the particularities of sports season and environments that make their way into my books.

The seasons had always been a part of the way I cooked and ate in Switzerland, and they again became what guided me in New York.

Winter and Summer While it's summer people say Winter is the better season. Such is human reason. Kamijima Onitsura

For nine months of the year Inspector Cramer of Homicide, big and broad and turning gray, looked the part well enough, but in the summertime the heat kept his face so red that he was a little gaudy.

Quando, Lídia, vier o nosso Outono, com o Inverno que há nele, reservemos um pensamento, não para a futura Primavera, que é de outrem nem para o estio, de quem somos mortos, senão para o que fica do que passa o amarelo atual que as folhas vivem e as torna diferentes.

Why is the sun invisible so long in winter near the farthest points north or south?

But farmers are patient men tried by brutal seasons, and if they weren't plagued by dreams of generation, few would keep plowing, spring after spring.

Creation itself, the natural world, already "believes" the Gospel, and lives the pattern of death and resurrection, even if unknowingly. The natural world "believes" in necessary suffering as the very cycle of life: just observe the daily dying of the sun so all things on this planet can live, the total change of the seasons, the plants and trees along with it, the violent world of animal predators and prey.

You know what would help this boy? Demeter mused. Farming. Persephone rolled her eyes. Mother- Six months behind a plow. Excellent character building.

I don't expend my energy trying to fight the change of seasons. I focus on making sure the days I have, and the season I oversee, are as joyful, rich, and plentiful as possible.

Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.

Once the danger of frost had passed she could plant her herb garden: creeping thyme, dill, sweet basil, hyssop, French tarragon, and bronze fennel. All wonderful flavors and scents added to her dishes.

There seems to be a kind of order in the universe…in the movement of the stars and the turning of the Earth and the changing of the seasons. But human life is almost pure chaos. Everyone takes his stance, asserts his own right and feelings, mistaking the motives of others, and his own.

In February the weather sometimes gave us a vacation, in August, never. We just got up earlier every morning until finally we met ourselves going to bed.

I long ago abandoned the notion of a life without storms, or a world without dry and killing seasons. Life is too complicated, too constantly changing, to be anything but what it is. And I am, by nature, too mercurial to be anything but deeply wary of the grave unnaturalness involved in any attempt to exert too much control over essentially uncontrollable forces. There will be propelling, disturbing elements, and they will be there until, as Lowell put it, the watch is taken from the wrist.

I have plotted Lombroso's findings in figure 4-3, and it can be seen that he found peaks of productivity in the late spring and early fall.

It's fall coming, I kept thinking, fall coming; just like that was the strangest thing ever happened. Fall. Right outside here it was spring a while back, then it was summer, and now it's fall-that's sure a curious idea.

Itt az Å'sz, járt a fejemben, itt az Å'sz. Mintha most elÅ'ször volna itt, fura dolog. ?sz. Még nem is olyan régen tavasz volt, aztán nyár, most meg Å'sz – fura csakugyan.

In seasons of distress and grief My soul has often found relief And oft escaped the tempter's snare By thy return sweet hour of prayer.

We mourn the blossoms of May because they are to whither; but we know that May is one day to have its revenge upon November, by the revolution of that solemn circle which never stops---which teaches us in our height of hope, ever to be sober, and in our depth of desolation, never to despair.

Gone hath the Spring, with all its flowers, and gone the Summer's pomp and show, and Autumn, in his leafless bowers, is waiting for the Winter's

And who'd date tell the lambs in spring, what fate the later seasons bring. Who'd tell the girl in the middle the pair the price she'll be just pay for just being there.

... the spring, the summer, The chilling autumn, angry winter, change Their wonted liveries; and the mazed world By their increase, now knows not which is which.

Shall i compare thee to a summers day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate