Quotes About Seasons

To everything there is a season. Yes. A time to break down, and a time to build up. Yes. A time to keep silence and a time to speak.

The August noon in us works to stave off the November chills. We survive by what little Fourth of July wits we've stashed away. But there are times when we're all autumn people.

Summer was over. Of course you can't tell in Los Angeles.

Some summers refuse to end.

To everything there is a season. Yes. A time to break down, and a time to build up. Yes. A time to keep silence and a time to speak. Yes, all that.

for the future he knows only by guesswork, and that not always; for it is reserved for God alone to know the times and the seasons, and for him there is neither past nor future; all is present.

Trust in Him This trial is temporary. Your season will change. You can trust this important truth. Take a deep breath and thank God for the season you're currently in, as well as the season He's bringing you into.

Winters in Michigan are a lot like John Holmes's penis: awe-inspiring but way too long, leaving you to wonder—after the

The perfect weather of Indian Summer lengthened and lingered, warm sunny days were followed by brisk nights with Halloween a presentiment in the air.

Imprisoned in reiterative seasons, vacillating between hope and disappointment, they were kept from being the vigorous doers that their nature and their culture instructed them to be.

You like it under the trees in autumn, Because everything is half dead.

I like a world in which the passing of the season (or the passing of the seasons) is a matter of some importance; and I have often wondered why newspapers did not contain wires from Italy reporting flights of storks; or from Buenos Aires reporting on the Argentine spring; and most of all I have wanted in winter daily dispatches on the front page of the Tribune describing the dazzle over the Florida Keys, and so on. However, today, General McArthur is more important than the sun.

Seasons pursuing each other the indescribable crowd is gathered, it is the fourth of Seventh-month,

The damps of autumn sink into the leaves and prepare them for the necessity of their fall; and thus insensibly are we, as years close around us, detached from our tenacity of life by the gentle pressure of recorded sorrow.

November's sky is chill and drear,November's leaf is red and sear.

Unless a tree has borne blossoms in spring, you will vainly look for fruit on it in autumn.

When dark December glooms the day, And takes our autumn joys away...

All life requires a rhythm of rest. . . There is a rhythm in the way day dissolves into night, and night into morning. There is a rhythm as the active growth of spring and summer is quieted by the necessary dormancy of fall and winter. There is a tidal rhythm, a deep, eternal conversation between the land and the great sea.

The violent contrast between the hot season and the monsoon makes the soil ricochet between swampy in one season and hard, parched, and cracked in another.

There's a season and there's a reason

life is like a season sometimes happy and sometimes sad.

Heaven knows I am no expert, but it seems to me the terrorism game is a bit like the art trade. It has its peaks and valleys, its good seasons and bad, but it never goes away. – Julian Isherwood

Alors qu'au Nord, la vie est rythmée par des saisons très contrastées ou tout se joue : les émotions comme l'économie. À chaque nouvelle saison, on a l'impression d'habiter une nouvelle ville. Elle nous entraîne dans une farandole : de nouveaux habits, un nouveau discours (on parle de chose différente d'une saison à l'autres), un nouveau sport, nouveaux débats politiques, une nouvelle cuisine. La vie est différente à chaque nouvelle saison.

There's two times of year for me: Football season, and waiting for football season.