Quotes About Spring

Love doesn't always come barreling down on you like a train engine. Sometimes it sneaks up on you like spring overtaking winter. The chill winds begin to warm and suddenly the trees have leaves and the flowers are blooming.

Truth shall spring out of the earth; and righteousness shall look down from heaven. Yea, the LORD shall give that which is good.

Before the spring arrives there are such days: Under the thick snow cover rests the lawn, The dry-and-jolly trees are making noise, Tender and strong, the wind is warm. And body is amazed at its own lightness, And your own home is alien to you, And song that had just previously been tiring With worry you are singing just like new.

There are such days before the spring: When meadows rest beneath the snow, And dry and cheerful branches swing When gentle warm winds blow. You marvel at your body's lightness And do not recognize your home, And sing again with new excitement The song that once seemed tiresome.

They were served asparagus in a mousseline sauce so delicious you could faint, then the Easter pâté à la Paulette Lestafier, then a roasted carré d'agneau accompanied by tians of tomatoes, and zucchini with thyme flowers, then a tart of strawberries and wild strawberries with homemade whipped cream.

A thousand pretty ways we'll find To mock old Winter's starving reign; We'll bid the violets spring again, Bid rich poetic roses blow, Peeping agove his heaps of snow; We'll dress his withered cheeks in flowers, And on his smooth bald head Fantastic garlands bind.

One of the best tricks a garden plays is that you never quite remember how it's going to be, that first day after winter has gone, when you go outside and can stay outside all day fiddling with jobs that aren't pressing enough to weigh heavily but will nevertheless pay dividends. A garden is made up of a thousand small inventions, but each small act is a defence (defiance even) against a world without anchors or safe harbours.

Such cold mean flowers the spring puts forth betime, Before the sun hath thoroughly heat the clime.

The spring is a lively emblem of the Resurrection.

double white Narcissus,

Forsythia that I thought had been dozed into oblivion sprang up and misted the foundations with lemon icing I yearn for all winter.

I never seemed to like the spring for what it was; I always loved it for what it might have been. In the head. In the heart of hearts. It is in my ability, I think, to love something fully only if I am naturally, compulsively, irrationally drawn to it.

In the grand and changeful panorama of the Hindu Kush, I miss the young green, the gentle wind, the stirring song of spring. But we do not dictate our dreams, and I didn't dare look back at the receding snowy peaks as I turned onto the plains.

Anger, The spring of all life's horror. - Medea

One can have no idea what the suffering may be, to be maimed as he is — no dignity, no power of will. No one is ever holy without suffering. It's taken that form with him ... I've seen so much suffering in the last few years; there's so much coming for everybody soon. It's the spring of love ...

I returned to London in the spring of 1926 for the General Strike. It was the topic of Paris. The French, exultant as always at the discomfiture of their former friends, and transposing into their own precise terms our mistier notions from across the Channel, foretold revolution and civil war.

We can't possibly have a summer love. So many people have tried that the name's become proverbial. Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It's a sad season of life without growth...It has no day.

Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It's a sad season of life without growth…It has no day.

Summer has no day,' she said. 'We can't possibly have a summer love. So many people have tried that the name's become proverbial. Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It's a sad season of life without growth...it has no day.

Amory took to writing poetry on spring afternoons, in the gardens of the big estates near Princeton, while swans made effective atmosphere in the artificial pools, and slow clouds sailed harmoniously above the willow. May came too soon, and suddenly unable to bear walls, he wandered the campus at all hours through starlight and rain.

Long afterward Amory thought of sophomore spring as the happiest time of his life. His ideas were in tune with life as he found it; he wanted no more than to drift and dream and enjoy a dozen new-found friendships through the April afternoons.

There's so much spring in the air-- there's so much lazy sweetness in your heart.

It was midsummer, but fresh water from the gasping sprinklers made the lawn glitter like spring.

I have never cared for any men as much as for these who felt the first springs when I did, and saw death ahead, and were reprieved - and who now walk the long stormy summer. It is a generation staunch by inheritance, sophisticated by fact - and rather deeply wise. More than that, what I feel about them is summed up in a line of Willa Cather's: We possess together the precious, the incommunicable past.