Quotes About Seasons

Fall means that all of the Joy of Summer is officially over, and all of those hack fall activities that people seem to pretend to enjoy to make themselves feel better begin.

At 19, I turned professional, and I moved to New York. Then I got the call to do 'Dancing With The Stars,' so I moved to L.A. when I was 20 and did it for 18 seasons - about two a year - until I was 30.

The garden has taught me to live, to appreciate the times when things are fallow and when they're not.

My life, I realize suddenly, is July. Childhood is June, and old age is August, but here it is, July, and my life, this year, is July inside of July.   The

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

If a householder moulds himself according to the circumstances just like nature moulds Herself according to seasons and performs his Karma then only shall he acquire happiness.

O saisons, ô châteaux, Quelle âme est sans défauts ?

Strange to the world, he wore a bashful look, The fields his study, Nature was his book; And, as revolving SEASONS chang'd the scene From heat to cold, tempestuous to serene, Though every change still varied his employ, Yet each new duty brought its share of joy.

More is a man of an angel's wit and singular learning; I know not his fellow. For where is the man of that gentleness, lowliness, and affability? And as time requireth a man of marvellous mirth and pastimes; and sometimes of as sad gravity: a man for all seasons. Robert Whittinton (1520) He was the person of the greatest virtue these islands ever produced. Jonathan Swift (1736)

I've been looking over the list of spring chores I made up last fall, and darned if they aren't fall chores, after all.

And dead leaves wrap the fruits that summer planted: And birds that love the South have taken wing. The wanderer, loitering o'er the scene enchanted, Weeps, and despairs of spring.

Days decrease, / And autumn grows, autumn in everything.

This day Time winds th' exhausted chain,To run the twelvemonth's length again.

All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn." [ Brigs of Ayr ]

The wolves had no notions of time the way men did, no reasons to divide a day into hours. The seasons were time enough for them, and the light and the dark. No need for more.

Investment cycles come in waves, as do ocean waves. They also change with the seasons.

That is one good thing about this world...there are always sure to be more springs.

Anne reveled in the world of color about her. Oh, Marilla, she exclaimed one Saturday morning, coming dancing in with her arms full of gorgeous boughs, I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it? Look at these maple branches. Don't they give you a thrill--several thrills?

Today has been a day dropped out of June into April.

The year is a book, isn't it, Marilla? Spring's pages are written in Mayflowers and violets, summer's in roses, autumn's in red maple leaves, and winter in holly and evergreen.

Well, that was life. Gladness and pain...hope and fear...and change. Always change! You could not help it. You had to let the old go and take the new to your heart...learn to love it and then let it go in turn. Spring, lovely as it was, must yield to summer and summer lose itself in autumn. The birth...the bridal...the death...

I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn't it?

Thanksgiving should be celebrated in the spring...I think it would be ever so much better than having it in November when everything is dead or asleep. Then you have to remember to be thankful; but in May one simply can't help being thankful...that they are alive, if for nothing else.

Anne smiled and sighed. The seasons that seemed so long to Baby Rilla were beginning to pass all too quickly for her. Another summer was ended, lighted out of life by the ageless gold of Lombardy torches. Soon...all too soon...the children of Ingleside would be children no longer. But they were still hers...hers to welcome when they came home at night...hers to fill life with wonder and delight...hers to love and cheer and scold...a little.