Quotes About Spring

If there comes a little thaw, Still the air is chill and raw, Here and there a patch of snow, Dirtier than the ground below, Dribbles down a marshy flood; Ankle-deep you stick in mud In the meadows while you sing, "This is Spring.

We were now in full spring. March had come and on the fourth of the month began the New Year Festival—the greatest of all Tibetan feasts, which lasts for three weeks.

The beauteous eyes of the spring's fair night With comfort are downward gazing.

The spring's already at the gate With looks my care beguiling; The country round appeareth straight A flower-garden smiling.

Looking for goshawks is like looking for grace: it comes, but not often, and you don't get to say when or how. But you have a slightly better chance on still, clear mornings in early spring

More than friends, eh? More than friends... You know, my mother once told me that half of the hatred that springs up between people is rooted in this mistaken belief that there's any human relationship more sacred than friendship.

Half of the hatred that springs up between people is rooted in their mistaken belief there is any human relationship more sacred than friendship..

More than friends, eh? More than friends . . . You know, my mother once told me that half of the hatred that springs up between people is rooted in this mistaken belief that there's any human relationship more sacred than friendship.

Her soul died that night under a radiant silver moon in the spring of 1918 on the side of a blood-spattered trench. Around her lay the mangled dead and the dying. Her body was untouched, her heart beat calmly, the blood coursed as ever through her veins. But looking deep into those emotionless eyes one wondered if they had suffered much before the soul had left them. Her face held an expression of resignation, as though she had ceased to hope that the end might come.

O May! robed in your gown of flowers, Nun-like, gaze from your balmy cell, Under your crown of asphodel, And sentinel all the summer hours; Rising among your daisy bowers, Like Venus from her cradled shell!

The breeze of Spring is not so blithe, The sea-gull not so free, No silver fish so light and lithe To wind in the green sea. Nor e'er did subtle alchemist Compound such wondrous dyes Of sapphire sky and emerald mist As the hue of Barbara's eyes.

Every character has an inward spring; let Christ be that spring. Every action has a keynote; let Christ be that note, to which your whole life is attuned.

Winter came to an end, and spring arrived, in its fully glory. I remember looking at the blooming trees and flowers and thinking of how incongruous is the beauty of nature against the ugliness of man.

The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month. - from Fisherman's Luck

The first day of spring is one thing and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month.

Enjoy the spring of love and youth, To some good angel leave the rest; For time will teach thee soon the truth, There are no birds in last year's nest.

'Twas Easter-Sunday. The full-blossomed trees Filled all the air with fragrance and with joy.

It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old.

Meanwhile spring arrived. My old dejection passed away and gave place to the unrest which spring brings with it, full of dreams and vague hopes and desires.

When I came to you out of all that dust and heat and toil, I positively smelt violets at once. But not the sweet violet - you know, that early dark violet that smells of melting snow and spring grass.

Ma koliko nastojali ljudi, kad ih se nekoliko stotina tisu?a skupi na jednom, nevelikom mjestu, da iznakaze tu zemlju na kojoj se stiš?u; ma kako sabijali kamenje u zemlju da ne bi ništa raslo na njoj; ma kako plijevili svaku travku što probije; ma kako dimili kamenim ugljenom i petrolejem; ma kako obrezivali drve?e i ma kako istjerivali sve životinje i ptice – prolje?e je bilo prolje?e ?ak i u gradu.

All that spring he was not himself, and went through fearful moments of horror.

Spring had come. My former depression had completely gone, and was replaced by the dreamy spring melancholy of vague hopes and desires.

I also believe, along with Keats, that the Poetry of Earth is never dead, as long as Spring succeeds Winter, and man is there to perceive it....And finally, I believe that because all these things are true, Ives' Unanswered Question has an answer. I'm no longer quite sure what the question is, but I know the answer is Yes.