Quotes About Seasons

All right. This might sound like a dumb question, but—what stage of life are you in? Are you young, middle-aged? I know you're not old." She checked him out, standing at the back of the cage, spinning an acorn. He was inarguably solid. She said, "I know already. You're in your prime." • • • PRIMES CAME in all sizes, and despite popular belief, could come around and around, like trees through the seasons.

Only a few leaves of deep red remain on the otherwise bare limbs of the maples; the oak leaves are russet and wrinkled; briefly through the trees is the glimpse of the bay, flat and steel-gray today with the overcast November sky.

The leaves were half-gone now. The Norway maples still hung on to their yellow, but most of the orangey-red of the sugar maples had found their way to the ground, leaving behind the stark branches that seemed to hang like stuck-out arms and tiny fingers, skeletal and bleak.

he rode with the window partly open because he loved the smell of the pines and the heavy salt air, and in the winter he loved the smell of the cold.

The seasons are what a symphony ought to be: four perfect movements in harmony with each other.

Autumn is my spring!

It is only the farmer who faithfully plants seeds in the Spring, who reaps a harvest in the Autumn.

When the bold branches Bid farewell to rainbow leaves — Welcome wool sweaters.

I commend rather some diet for certain seasons, than frequent use of physic, except it be grown into a custom. For those diets alter the body more, and trouble it less.

Mostly, I have to say as an actor, to find a character that's been rich enough for 10 seasons of shows... that's very rare.

I love Halloween. I love Thanksgiving. I love Christmas. I love New Year's.

Our lives consist of different seasons. Through them all, God's love and mercy never changes. — Mimi Greenwood Knight

For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. —Ecclesiastes 3:1

God has made everything beautiful for its own time. —Ecclesiastes 3:11

In the mountains it's cold. Always been cold, not just this year. Jagged scarps forever snowed in Woods in the dark ravines spitting mist. Grass is still sprouting at the end of June, Leaves begin to fall in early August. And here I am, high on mountains, Peering and peering, but I can't even see the sky.

My love thoughts these days Come thick like the summer grass Which soon as cut and raked Grows

And after winter folweth grene May.

In the checkered area of human experience the seasons are all mingled as in the golden age: fruit and blossom hang together; in the same moment the sickle is reaping and the seed is sprinkled; one tends the green cluster and another treads the winepress. Nay, in each of our lives harvest and spring-time are continually one, until himself gathers us and sows us anew in his invisible fields.

The promise was void, like so many other sweet, illusory promises of our childhood; void as promises made in Eden before the seasons were divided, and when the starry blossoms grew side by side with the ripening peach,—impossible to be fulfilled when the golden gates had been passed.

Fielding lived when the days were longer (for time, like money, is measured by our needs), when summer afternoons were spacious, and the clock ticked slowly in the winter evenings.

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.

What, I sometimes wonder, would it be like if I lived in a country where winter is a matter of a few chilly days and a few weeks' rain; where the sun is never far away, and the flowers bloom all year long?

Other than motherhood, the eight years that I spent at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, I have incredibly fond memories of. It's a beautiful place, with four seasons up in Wisconsin. And really wonderful people.

When I create and write for TV, I build universes that will have arcs lasting seasons, whereas theatre allows me to explore storylines that will open up for two hours or less. Both are wonderfully fulfilling, but they couldn't be more different.