Quotes About Renewal

But all my life—so far— I have loved best how the flowers rise and open, how the pink lungs of their bodies enter the fire of the world and stand there shining and willing—the one thing they can do before they shuffle forward into the floor of darkness, they become the trees.

Don't bother me. I've just been born.

From the time of snow-melt, when the creek roared and the mud slid and the seeds cracked, I listened to the earth-talk, the root-wrangle, the arguments of energy, the dreams lying just under the surface, then rising, becoming at the last moment flaring and luminous -- (excerpt from the poem, Wild Trilliums)

Every year the hatchlings wake in the swaying branches, in the silver baskets, and love the world. Is it necessary to say any more? Have you heard them singing in the wind, above the final fields? Have you ever been so happy in your life?

I went to China, I went to Prague; I died, and was born in the spring; I found you, and loved you, again.

I lie like land used up, while spring unfolds.

Sometimes the desire to be lost again, as long ago, comes over me like a vapor. With growth into adulthood, responsibilities claimed me, so many heavy coats. I didn't choose them, I don't fault them, but it took time to reject them. Now in the spring I kneel, I put my face into the packets of violets, the dampness, the freshness, the sense of ever-ness.

who would cry out to the petals on the ground to stay, knowing as we must, how the vivacity of what was is married to the vivacity of what will be?

But listen now to what happened to the actual trees; toward the end of that summer they pushed new leaves from their stubbed limbs. It was the wrong season, yes, but they couldn't stop. They looked like telephone poles and didn't care. And after the leaves came blossoms. For some things there are no wrong seasons. Which is what I dream of for me.

In this early dancing of a new day— dogs leaping on the beach, dolphins leaping not far from shore— someone is bending over me, is kissing me slowly.

I felt like a little donkey when his burden is finally lifted. Things! Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful fire! More room in your heart for love, for the trees! For the birds who nothing--the reason they can fly.

Everything That Was Broken Everything that was broken has forgotten its brokenness. I live now in a sky-house, through every window the sun. Also your presence. Our touching, our stories. Earthy and holy both. How can this be, but it is. Every day has something in it whose name is Forever.

I felt like a little donkey when his burden is finally lifted. Things! Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful fire! More room in your heart for love, for the trees! For the birds who own nothing--the reason they can fly.

everything. I felt like the little donkey when his burden is finally lifted. Things! Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful fire! More room in your heart for love, for the trees! For the birds who own nothing—the reason they can fly.

We have to bring back his eye by the

Youth, elastic and bright, disdains to be compelled. When conquered, from its very chains it forges implements for freedom; it alights from one baffled flight, only again to soar on untired wing towards some other aim. Previous defeat is made the bridge to pass the tide to another shore; and, if that break down, its fragments become stepping stones. It will feed upon despair, and call it a medicine which is to renovate its dying hopes.

She saw and marked the revolutions that had been, and the present seemed to her only a point of rest, from which time was to renew his flight.

He lost no time in endeavouring to seek him out, with the hope of persuading him to begin the world again

You never encounter the same person twice, for everyone perpetually changes second by second. This even applies to parent and child, husband and wife, brother and sister. You are wrong in grabbing the past image of a person and thinking that what you see now is the same person you saw in the past. Of course, it is also a fact that you too are changing second by second. You should live with this fact strongly imprinted on your mind: All human beings are constantly renewing themselves.

Where tree leaves dance... one shall find flames... the fire's shadow will illuminate the village... and once again tree leaves shall bud anew.

Between our two lives there is also the life of the cherry blossom.

You see, doing one thing differently is very often the same as doing everything differently.

So plants can withstand almost any loss, and regenerate easily. They are utterly decentralised.

Know that there's nothing more optimistic than springtime in Paradise Valley, but if you need year-round renewal memorize this line from a Richard Hugo poem set in Philipsburg so you have it handy for life's little cold snaps: "The car that brought you here still runs.