Quotes About Harvest

Chuseok is coming soon, and I hope you spend a good time with your family. You can spend Chuseok with 'Moonlight Drawn by Clouds' as well.

I take all my grandchildren down to the garden and they spend hours and hours eating peas.

There are not too many fables about man's misuse of sunflower seeds.

Good oil, like good wine, is a gift from the gods. The grape and the olive are among the priceless benefactions of the soil, and were destined, each in its way, to promote the welfare of man.

They walk into the hop field. Carefully. There is an enveloping smell, a resiny odor not unlike marijuana, the sharp smell that comes off an expensive beer.

Even the hills and fields are flowing, so why do you feel you're all alone, tears hugging you to yourself ? The world is a tree bowed down with fruit, while you bend over stealing rotten apples.

When you drop your desire in consciousness as a seed, confident that it shall appear in its full-blown potential, you have done all that is expected of you. To be worried or concerned about the manner of their unfoldment is to hold these fertile seeds in a mental grasp and, therefore, to prevent them from really maturing to full harvest.

same smell of lavender and honeysuckle and oily wool. We're crutching

I know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.

Generally it must be stated that realpolitik has been better at dividing than at ruling. Take it as a whole since Kissinger called on the Shah in 1972, and see what the harvest has been.

Lanny enjoyed this season of mist and mellow fruitfulness, and observed with the eyes of an art connoisseur the thatched cottages and moldy-looking roofs, the hedges, the winding roads

That was one of the first things they were to learn about subtropical China; never would you find a single square inch on which food might be grown that did not have food growing.

He felt what the earth may possibly feel, at the moment when it is torn open with the iron, in order that grain may be deposited within it; it feels only the wound; the quiver of the germ and the joy of the fruit only arrive later.

My land tells its story if you listen. The story of our family. We plant, we tend, we harvest. I make wine from grape cuttings I brought here from Sicily, and the wine I make reminds me of my father. It binds us, one to another, as it has for generations. Now it will bind you to us.

Soon, the crops would be planted. By July, the corn would be as tall as a man and go on forever. By October, the leaves would be brownish gold and thin as paper,and when the early winter winds came, the rustling stalks would sound like a hive of bees. That was the cycle of the land, the measure of time. Everything in her daddy's world had been tacked to seasons. Things came and went and lived and died according to sunlight.

Grow it right, and you feel insanely rich, no matter what you own.

Food, a French man told me once, is the first wealth. Grow it right, and you feel insanely rich, no matter what you own.

The dark brown soil is turned By the sharp-pointed plow; And I've a lesson learned. My life is but a field, Stretched out beneath God's sky, Some harvest rich to yield. Where grows the golden grain? Where faith? Where sympathy? In a furrow cut by pain. Maltbie D. Babcock

We are the fruits harvested of the choices we plant.

There is a season for man's merit as well as for fruit.

One had, in any case, a bag full of fruits that resemble stars, picked by the handful in the luminous forest ...

With patience everything comes in due season.

Wait long enough and you reap what you sow. That hold for men. That hold for towns. That hold for a whole country.

Before there is wine or there is oil, the grape must be trodden and the olive must be pressed.