Quotes About Season

Every one knows that change is inevitable. From the second law of thermodynamics to Darwinian evolution, from Buddhism's insistence that nothing is permanent and all suffering results from our delusions of permanence to the third chapter of Ecclesiastes ("To everything there is a season"), change is part of life, of existence, of the common wisdom. But I don't believe we're dealing with all that that means. We haven't even begun to deal with it.

Winter is the king of showmen, Turning tree stumps into snowmen And houses into birthday cakes And spreading sugar over lakes. Smooth and clean and frosty white, The world looks good enough to bite. That's the season to be young, Catching snowflakes on your tongue. Snow is snowy when it's snowing, I'm sorry it's slushy when it's going.

At this time of year the world is at its most detestable.

I've found what I was looking for, Child: what people call love between a man and a woman is a season. And if, at its flowering, this season is a feast of greenery, at its waning, it's only a heap of rotting leaves.

Winter was usually the slow season at the menagerie, with so many of the animals hibernating, but that year I was busier than a hen with a double set of chicks.

Perhaps we as a nation need a rest too - a breathing space, an amnesty, a season of mourning, a month of indulgence, a year of reprieve, a century of celebration. A laying down of arms, a laying on of hands. A long, cool rain of forgiveness.

Bethlehem's peak season is—naturally—Christmas, when it celebrates not only the birth of Jesus, but its own birth, having been named on Christmas Eve 1741.

The significance of the regathering of Israel? Only the declaration to a blind and deaf world to see and hear that King of Kings and Lord of Lords is preparing to come back. Will any see and take heed? The scriptures from Matthew, above, signal that it is the "season" in which he is to come, and the consistent charge from our Lord is to "watch". Are you watching as I am, wondering when and how the outcome will be? It is, after all, the command of our Lord.

Daddy always said that Christmas is a joyous season when suicides and holdups and shoplifting and like that reach a new high and that the best place to spend the whole thing is a Moslem country.

For me the autumn has never been a sad season. The dead leaves and the increasingly shorter days have never suggested the end of anything, but rather an expectation of the future. In paris, there is an electricity in the air in october evenings at nightfall. Even when it is raining. i do not feel low at that hour of the day, nor do i have the sense of time flying by. i have the impression that everything is possible. the year begins in the month of october.

IT WAS ONE OF those perfect autumn days so common in stories and so rare in the real world. The weather was warm and dry, ideal for ripening a field of wheat or corn. On both sides of the road the trees were changing color. Tall poplars had gone a buttery yellow while the shrubby sumac encroaching on the road was tinged a violent red. Only the old oaks seemed reluctant to give up the summer, and their leaves remained an even mingling of gold and green.

IT WAS ONE OF those perfect autumn days so common in stories and so rare in the real world. The

Songs choose their hour and their own season. When your tune's tin, there is a reason. The tone of a tune is your heart's mettle, and there's no clear water from a muddy well. All you can do is let the silt settle, or you'll sound sour as a broken bell." I

This season, in the midst of all the celebrations and gift-giving, be careful to remember that at the center of what we celebrate is one game-changing, life-altering, hope-giving reality: grace is a person, and his name is Jesus.

TO MY MIND, PUSHKIN BEST SUMS UP THE SEASON: "Lovely summer, how I could cherish you / If heat and dust and gnats and flies were banished.

Falling autumn leaves gave the air an amber hue as though seen through a jar of honey.

The harvest moon hangs round and high It dodges clouds high in the sky, The stars wink down their love and mirth The Autumn season is giving birth. Oh, it must be October...

There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!

[T]here is a harmony In autumn, and a luster in its sky...

I have liv'd long enough for others, like the Dog in the Wheel, and it is now the Season to begin for myself: I cannot change that Thing call'd Time, but I can alter its Posture and, as Boys do turn a looking-glass against the Sunne, so I will dazzle you all.

There's one good thing about snow, it makes your lawn look as nice as your neighbor's. - Clyde Moore

Fitting. This was one of our favorite camps in the world. Year after year. If his spirit could look out. To the changing creek, season to season. I lay him in wrapped in the quilt and I say Goodbye, bud. You are Jasper. My heart. We are never apart, not here, not there.

It was the best time of the year. Frost at night and warm, sunny days, when the yellows and oranges of the aspen and cottonwoods did something to the blue of the sky behind them that an artist might never mimic.

He had learned that it was much less a distraction than a form of connection: of connecting to the best part of himself, and to a discipline that demanded he stay open to every sense, to the nuances of the season and to the instrument of his own body, his own agility or fatigue.