Quotes About Spring

And now to one side Gorgythion drooped his head and heavy helmet; He let it fall over like the bloom of a garden poppy, heavy with seed and the rains of spring.

Of all creatures that breathe and walk on the earth there is nothing more helpless than a man is, of all that the earth fosters; for he thinks that he will never suffer misfortune in future days, while the gods grant him courage, and his knees have spring in them. But when the blessed gods bring sad days upon him, against his will he must suffer it with enduring spirit.

As is the generation of leaves, so is that of humanity. The wind scatters the leaves on the ground, but the live timber burgeons with leaves again in the season of spring returning. So one generation of men will grow while another 150  dies. Yet if you wish to learn all this and be certain of my genealogy: there are plenty of men who know it.

Very like leaves upon this earth are the generations of men— old leaves, cast on the ground by wind, young leaves the greening forest bears when spring comes in. So mortals pass; one generation flowers even as another dies away.

Generations of men are like the leaves. In winter, winds blow them down to earth, but then, when spring season comes again, the budding wood grows more. And so with men: one generation grows, another dies away.

What idiocy, to racing into this story and its labyrinths, sprinting away from our happiness among the fresh spring grasses by the oak.

Caen las hojas. Llega la primavera, y tu caída.

When we were at the lodge, and you were dancing in the snow, I kept wondering why the snow wasn't melting. You're like spring. My spring.

That U.N. Security Council resolution requires getting Syrian troops and intelligence officials out of Lebanon so that the Lebanese can have elections here this spring that are free and fair and free of outside influence.

The cherry blossom tree is truly a sight to behold, especially when it is in full riotous bloom. There are several varieties of the cherry blossom tree, and while most of them produce flowering branches full of small pinkish-hued flowers, some of them produce actual cherries.

In winter the Brine freezes over entirely and is said that the ice traps all the words that were being spoken as the water froze. In spring, when the ice melts, the air is full of the ghosts of conversation.

She was undeniably Ari, female, human, her bare arms pimpled with cold, who shivered in the breeze of a late spring night, who existed solely within the flesh that contained her spirit.

My writing is like a ten gallon spring. It can issue from the ground anywhere at all. On smooth ground it rushes swiftly on and covers a thouasand li in a single day without difficulty. When it twists and turns among mountains and rocks, it fits its form to things it meets: unknowable. What can be known is, it always goes where it must go, always stops where it cannot help stopping -- nothing else. More than that, even I cannot know.

when in truth the sacred is all around us. Is there not something sacred in the miraculous germination of seeds and the explosive green growth of spring? Might there be a spark of divinity in the instant awareness of another's thoughts when two people make contact?

Their romance has started in earnest this summer, but the prologue took up the whole previous year. All fall and spring of the previous year they lived with exclusive reference to each other, and were viewed as an unspoken duo by everyone else.

The spring which moved my energies lay far away beyond seas, in an Indian isle.

You will be my souvenir in American summer, when all I can think about are Parisian springs.

My father moved through theys of we, singing each new leaf out of each tree, (and every child was sure that spring danced when she heard my father sing)...

My father moved through theys of we, singing each new leaf out of each tree (and every child was sure that spring danced when she heard my father sing) Ã¢â'¬Â¦Ã¢â'¬Â —A POEM BY E. E. CUMMINGS, READ BY MORRIE'S SON, ROB, AT THE MEMORIAL SERVICE

The days get longer and the nights smell green I guess it's not surprising but it's spring and I should leave.

Carrie would always have him anyway, he thought, the way she had him now. Spring smells of dirt and rainwater rose from the ground. Love was a mixed business. As in building, he couldn't afford the refinement he desired. He needed too much. Carrie had been his great romance. He hadn't been hers. With Susan it wasn't romance, exactly. It was home.

It is our fate, Thorgil said. In the spring look for us again, or if you don't find us, we'll meet in Valhalla. She looked away. Jack knew she had no real hope, or desire, now to go to Valhalla. ... Jack leaned over and took her hand. You are Jill Allyson's Daughter, he said, using the name Thorgil's dead mother had given her at birth. You are not meant for Ragnarok.

Spring came late, but when it came it was hand-in-hand with summer, and almost at once everything was baking and warm, and in the villages the people danced every night on concrete dancing floors under the plane trees...

ese rumor de aliento libre en primavera que corre al mar para volver y volver a partir. that whisper of the free breath of spring that flows seaward only to return returning only to depart again. (de Negro)