Quotes About Seasons

The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day. When the sun is out and the wind is still, You're one month on in the middle of May. But if you so much as dare to speak, a cloud come over the sunlit arch, And wind comes off a frozen peak, And you're two months back in the middle of March.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still, No longer blown hither and thither; The last lone aster is gone; The flowers of the witch hazel wither; The heart is still aching to seek, But the feet question 'Whither?' Ah, when to the heart of man Was it ever less than a treason To go with the drift of things, To yield with a grace to reason, And bow and accept the end Of a love or a season?

The flowers of the witch hazel wither; The heart is still aching to seek, But the feet question 'Whither?' Ah, when tot the heart of man Was it ever less than a teason to go with the drift of things, to yield with a grace to reason, and bow and accept and accept the end of a love or a season?

Monotony? Have we not always had the same stars and the same sky above us, changing only in its shades of blue and gray and purple black? And who shall say that such themes are exhausted? Have we not always had love and passion, war and peace, summer and winter and spring and fall with us? And are these things unable longer to impel us to spiritual variations?

Nature's first green is gold

I promised myself that I would talk to her before the summer was over, but schools reopened, the leaves reddened, yellowed, and fell, the rains of winter swept in and wakened Baba's joints, baby leaves sprouted once more, and I still hadn't had the heart, the dil, to even look her in the eye.

I promised myself that I would talk to her before the summer was over, but schools reopened, the leaves reddened, yellowed, and fell, the rains of winter swept in, baby leaves sprouted once more, and I still hadn't had the heart, the dil, to even look her in the eye.

They noticed that Earth tilted in relation to the sun, offering first one hemisphere and then the other over the course of the year ...

Southern California spring-time, when things bloomed, occurred from November through February, corresponding to the rainy season. Summer's equivalent would be March through May; and the dry brown autumn was June through October. Leaving no good equivalent for winter proper.

best clothing money could buy, and then he would give Diane even more clothing at Christmastime. And if that hadn't already been enough, he also made sure to buy Diane a whole new summer wardrobe at the end of every school year.

Så kom kornet på staur, så blev poteten tat op. Så kom vinteren. Neivel, så kom ikke sagen under tak i høst, men det fik ikke hjælpe, det gjaldt ikke livet. Til sommeren kom tid og råd.

Every growing thing has received its peculiar impress: the delicately blown breath of the first cold. The stubbles straggle wanly sunwards, and the falling leaves rustle to the earth, with a sound as of errant silkworms.

Værsåartig, her var nu litt om bær, vore bærsorter...

Men tiden går, går storartet. Det er ikke en synlig hånd som skyver på, men går gjør det, aldrig set slikt, det er ingenting før det er høst.

I have always loved the many moods of the sky at Rocky Flats. Turquoise and teal in summer, fiery red at sunset, iron gray when snow is on the way. The land rolls in waves of tall prairie grass bowed to the wind, or sprawling mantles of white frosted with a thin sheath of ice in winter.

I was just thinking, if it is really religion with these nudist colonies, they sure must turn atheists in the wintertime.

The only authority I respect is the one that causes butterflies to fly south in fall and north in springtime.

Cycles come and go: everybody has their off times.

The wagon rests in winter, the sleigh in summer, the horse never.

Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence. Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance. Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence. Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance.

spring passes and one remembers one's innocence summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance there is a season that never passes and that is the season of glass -- Season of Glass, 1981

The bitter winds in February were sometimes called the First East Winds, but the longing for spring somehow made them seem more piercing.

I've been here before, dreaming myself backwards, among grappling hooks of light. True to the seasons, I've lived every word spoken. Did I walk into someone's nightmare?

Winter in Peking is insurpassable, unless indeed it is surpassed by the other seasons in that blessed city. For Peking is a city clearly marked by the seasons, each perfect in its own way and each different from the others.