Quotes About Seasons

You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person died for no reason.

Sul corno insanguinato del vincitore si posarono le farfalle bianche. Una di loro ci restò per sempre, per generazioni di farfalle, petalo a sbattere nel vento sopra il re dei camosci nelle stagioni da aprile a novembre.

What Berry sees in his farm as a form, I see in Scripture as a form. Think of the farm as an organic whole, but with boundaries so that you are aware and stay in touch with all the interrelations: the house and barn, the horses and the chickens, the weather of sun and rain, the food prepared in the house and the work done in the fields, the machinery and the tools, the seasons. There are steady, relaxed rhythms in place.

The attraction was as powerful as the turning of the seasons. Dane had not consciously set out to seduce Helen; he hadn't needed to be conscious of that. It was as inevitable as breathing.

We'd all like to be in the business where we don't have to report our numbers, too. You're dealing with a Netflix and an Amazon that don't have to report their viewership. They're not sharing those numbers, so how do you work with a creative entity to renegotiate future seasons when nobody has metrics?

In India, one has to plan according to the monsoons.

You want who you want in the summer You get who you want that fall But after you've got who you wanted, it's not The one whom you wanted at all

September tries its best to have us forget summer.

Adieu to those more cheerful hours, Spent amid Spring's unfolding flowers, Or Summer's soothing shade; A few short weeks--and then adieu To fields and groves of changeful hue, By Autumn's hand array'd!

A light winter means a hard summer.

Vergnügungen Der erste Blick aus dem Fenster am Morgen Das wiedergefundene alte Buch Begeisterte Gesichter Schnee, der Wechsel der Jahreszeiten Die Zeitung Der Hund Die Dialektik Duschen, Schwimmen Alte Musik Bequeme Schuhe Begreifen Neue Musik Schreiben, Pflanzen Reisen Singen Freundlich sein

Pleasures First look from morning's window The rediscovered book Fascinated faces Snow, the change of the seasons The newspaper The dog Dialectics Showering, swimming Old music Comfortable shoes Comprehension New music Writing, planting Traveling Singing Being friendly

The day after the day that I walk out the front door and the air is crisp, with just a hint of the Autumn days ahead, I put cinnamon in my coffee.

Winter lingered so long in the lap of Spring, that it occasioned a great deal of talk.

Jefferson makes note of the date on which particular flowers bloom. Once autumn comes, he will record the migratory patterns of birds.4

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.

You reflect on the people who used to be in your life, and it's like, 'Wow, I can't believe that person was ever really in my life.' But people are put into your life for seasons, for different reasons, and to teach you lessons.

Left ear, I wear four earrings. The four is symbolic of the four seasons, spring, winter, summer and fall, the four directions, north, east, south and west, the four gospel writers, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

Winter still comes after autumn though you may have died over the summer.

After all, a book can be set aside for weeks, or for good. (Burned in the grate.) Alternatively, a story can be adored for centuries. But it cannot be derailed. A plot, whether abandoned by a reader or pursued rapturously, remains itself, and gets where it is headed even if nobody is looking. It is progressive and inevitable as the seasons. Winter still comes after autumn though you may have died over the summer.

But she knew better than to trust the false hope of the holidays.

All green things brown.

a story can be adored for centuries. But it cannot be derailed. A plot, whether abandoned by a reader or pursued rapturously, remains itself, and gets where it is headed even if nobody is looking. It is progressive and inevitable as the seasons.

It might be high summer all about but inside me everything is fall. The lonesomeness of a sad, slow closing of days, knowing frost is nigh and wind needling through the cabin chinks is just around the bend. That's me, right now.