Quotes About Harvest

We do not repay mercy with murder. Kindness grows kindness, and you will reap the harvest of whatever seeds you sow.

Any man who, having planted a vineyard, has not yet reaped the benefits should do so at once, so that he does not die in the struggle and leave it for another to enjoy.

The divine gift is ever the instant life, which receives and uses and creates, and can well bury the old in the omnipotency with which Nature decomposes all her harvest for recomposition.

A gardener's life is full of sweets and sours; He gets the sunshine when he needs the showers.

Life is a green madness just now, trying to squeeze the last bit of warmth from the season.

Time is a blooming field: nature is ever teeming with life: and all is seed, and all is fruit.

Vegetables you've grown in your own garden just taste better. Meals that you've cooked yourself just taste better. And yes, animals that you've killed yourself just taste better.

dark furrow lines grid the snow, punctuated by orange abacus beads of pumpkins - now the crows own the field...

Up from the meadows rich with corn,Clear in the cool September morn.

We crossed through cornfields and soy, a new planting of loblolly pines

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may findThee sitting careless on a granary floor,Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,Drows'd with the fume of poppies while thy hookSpares the next swath and all its twined flowers.

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun.

Bring forth the raisins and the nuts- Tonight All-Hallows' Spectre struts Along the moonlit way.

That day of battle in the dusty heat We lay and heard the bullets swish and sing Like scythes amid the over-ripened wheat, And we the harvest of their garnering.

The earth grows white with harvest; all day long The sickles gleam, until the darkness weaves Her web of silence o'er the thankful song Of reapers bringing home the golden sheaves. The wave tops whiten on the sea fields drear, And men go forth at haggard dawn to reap; But ever 'mid the gleaners' song we hear The half-hushed sobbing of the hearts that weep.

On récolte ce que l'on sème. That

That springtime does not last forever and that the fine seasons should have their harvest gathered and stored against harsher times. That you should choose your battles wisely. You cannot fight everything and win. Sometimes the price of losing is beyond what you can afford to pay, but that applies to winning as well." She narrowed her focus on the girls. "Be very careful and think before you act. Make friends with those who you know will stay true to you and reward them fittingly.

November comes And November goes, With the last red berries And the first white snows. With night coming early, And dawn coming late, And ice in the bucket And frost by the gate. The fires burn And the kettles sing, And earth sinks to rest Until next spring.

To eat figs off the tree in the very early morning, when they have been barely touched by the sun, is one of the exquisite pleasures of the Mediterranean.

After the keen still days of September, the October sun filled the world with mellow warmth...The maple tree in front of the doorstep burned like a gigantic red torch. The oaks along the roadway glowed yellow and bronze. The fields stretched like a carpet of jewels, emerald and topaz and garnet. Everywhere she walked the color shouted and sang around her...In October any wonderful unexpected thing might be possible.

So once in every year we throng Upon a day apart, To praise the Lord with feast and song In thankfulness of heart.

Happiness is the harvest of a quiet eye.

Reason clears and plants the wilderness of the imagination to harvest the wheat of art.

On love, we harvest the infinite poems of the soul .