Spring Quotes

You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.

Spring is the time of plans and projects.

What a strange thing!
to be alive
beneath cherry blossoms.

Blossoms    Cherry blossoms    Haiku    Japan    Life    Poetry    Spring

Is the spring coming?" he said. "What is it like?"...
"It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine...

The Secret Garden

Frances Hodgson Burnett

The Secret Garden
Beauty    Children    Classic    Nature    Spring

Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence.
Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance.
Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence.
Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance.

Aging    Autumn    Fall    Life    Seasons    Spring    Summer    Time    Winter

When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.

It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.

She turned to the sunlight
    And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbor:
    "Winter is dead.

Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning, spring.

Breakfast at Tiffany's

Truman Capote-Breakfast at Tiffany's

Breakfast at Tiffany's

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome."
Meditations Divine and Moral

Nostalgia in reverse, the longing for yet another strange land, grew especially strong in spring.


Vladimir Nabokov

Craving    Desire    Life    Nostalgia    Seasons    Spring    Wanderlust

If winter comes, can spring be far behind?

Ode to the West Wind

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Ode to the West Wind
Hope    Rqeadh    Spring    Winter

If people did not love one another, I really don't see what use there would be in having any spring.

Les Miserables

Victor Hugo

Love    People    Spring

sweet spring is your
time is my time is our
time for springtime is lovetime
and viva sweet love
(all the merry little birds are
flying in the floating in the
very spirits singing in
are winging in the blossoming)
lovers go and lovers come
awandering awondering
but any two are perfectly
alone there's nobody else alive
(such a sky and such a sun
i never knew and neither did you
and everybody never breathed
quite so many kinds of yes)
not a tree can count his leaves
each herself by opening
but shining who by thousands mean
only one amazing thing
(secretly adoring shyly
tiny winging darting floating
merry in the blossoming
always joyful selves are singing)
sweet spring is your
time is my time is our
time for springtime is lovetime
and viva sweet love

who knows if the moon's
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky--filled with pretty people?
( and if you and I should
get into it,if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we'd go up higher with all the pretty people
than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody's ever visited,where
Spring)and everyone's
in love and flowers pick themselves

Astronomy    Balloon    Flowers    Hot air balloon    Luna    Lunar    Moonlight    Spring

It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want—oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!

That is one good thing about this world...there are always sure to be more springs.

Anne of Avonlea

L.M. Montgomery

Anne of Avonlea

I enjoy the spring more than the autumn now. One does, I think, as one gets older.

Autumn    Old    Spring

The deep roots never doubt spring will come.

Confidence    Doubt    Faith    Spring    Trust

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.

This Side of Paradise

F. Scott Fitzgerald

This Side of Paradise
April    August    Charlatan    July    June    September    Spring    Summer

With so many trees in the city, you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly in one morning. Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem that it would never come and that you were losing a season out of your life. This was the only truly sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason.
In those days, though, the spring always came finally but it was frightening that it had nearly failed.

April hath put a spirit of youth in everything. (Sonnet XCVIII)

Shakespeare's Sonnets

William Shakespeare

Shakespeare's Sonnets

It was such a spring day as breathes into a man an ineffable yearning, a painful sweetness, a longing that makes him stand motionless, looking at the leaves or grass, and fling out his arms to embrace he knows not what.

The Forsyte Saga

John Galsworthy

The Forsyte Saga
Meaning    Nature    Spring    Yearning

Spring shows what God can do with a drab and dirty world.

Can words describe the fragrance of the very breath of spring?

Despite the forecast, live like it's spring.

Or maybe spring is the season of love and fall the season of mad lust. Spring for flirting but fall for the untamed delicious wild thing.

Autumn    Fall    Flirting    Love    Lust    Seasons    Spring

People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.

It is a very beautiful day. The woman looks around and thinks: 'there cannot ever have been a spring more beautiful than this. I did not know until now that clouds could be like this. I did not know that the sky is the sea and that clouds are the souls of happy ships, sunk long ago. I did not know that the wind could be tender, like hands as they caress - what did I know - until now?

Clouds    Spring    Wind

April's air stirs in
Willow-leaves...a butterfly
Floats and balances

Chicago is an October sort of city even in spring.

Chicago    City    October    Spring

The seasonal urge is strong in poets. Milton wrote chiefly in winter. Keats looked for spring to wake him up (as it did in the miraculous months of April and May, 1819). Burns chose autumn. Longfellow liked the month of September. Shelley flourished in the hot months. Some poets, like Wordsworth, have gone outdoors to work. Others, like Auden, keep to the curtained room. Schiller needed the smell of rotten apples about him to make a poem. Tennyson and Walter de la Mare had to smoke. Auden drinks lots of tea, Spender coffee; Hart Crane drank alcohol. Pope, Byron, and William Morris were creative late at night. And so it goes.

Alcohol    Apple    Apples    April    Auden    Autumn    Burns    Byron    Coffee    De la mare    Fall    Hart crane    Insomnia    Keats    Longfellow    May    Milton    Morris    Night    Nocturnal    Poetry    Poets    Pope    Schiller    Season    Seasons    September    Shelley    Spender    Spring    Tea    Tennyson    Winter    Wordsworth    Writers    Writing

It always amazes me to look at the little, wrinkled brown seeds and think of the rainbows in 'em," said Captain Jim. "When I ponder on them seeds I don't find it nowise hard to believe that we've got souls that'll live in other worlds. You couldn't hardly believe there was life in them tiny things, some no bigger than grains of dust, let alone colour and scent, if you hadn't seen the miracle, could you?

Anne's House of Dreams

L.M. Montgomery

Anne's House of Dreams

I suppose the best kind of spring morning is the best weather God has to offer.

I Capture the Castle

Dodie Smith I Capture the Castle

I Capture the Castle

A poor old Widow in her weeds
Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds;
Not too shallow, and not too deep,
And down came April -- drip -- drip -- drip.
Up shone May, like gold, and soon
Green as an arbour grew leafy June.
And now all summer she sits and sews
Where willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows,
Teasle and pansy, meadowsweet,
Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit;
Brown bee orchis, and Peals of Bells;
Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells;
Like Oberon's meadows her garden is
Drowsy from dawn to dusk with bees.
Weeps she never, but sometimes sighs,
And peeps at her garden with bright brown eyes;
And all she has is all she needs --
A poor Old Widow in her weeds.

Bees    Garden    Gardening    Grief    Rain    Seeds    Spring    Summer    Sun    Widow    Wild flowers

Spring drew on...and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.

Jane Eyre

Charlotte Brontë Brontë

Jane Eyre

Woods were ringed with a colour so soft, so subtle that it could scarcely be said to be a colour at all. It was more the
of a colour - as if the trees were dreaming green dreams or thinking green thoughts.

And the Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast
Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.

The Complete Poems

Percy Bysshe Shelley

The Complete Poems

Always it’s Spring)and everyone’s in love and flowers pick themselves.

100 Selected Poems

E.E. Cummings

100 Selected Poems
Hope    Love    Nature    Spring

Dead my old fine hopes
And dry my dreaming but still...
Iris, blue each spring

Haiku    Hope    Spring

Spring work is going on with joyful enthusiasm.

Enthusiasm    John muir    Joyful    Muir    Spring    Spring work    Work

In a world where thrushes sing and willow trees are golden in the spring, boredom should have been included among the seven deadly sins.

Birds    Gratefulness    Gratitude    Musings    Nature    Seasons    Spring    Trees

Too much sun after a Syracuse winter does strange things to your head, makes you feel strong, even if you aren't.


Laurie Halse Anderson

Spring    Sun    Syracuse    Weather    Winter

If Springtime crawls out of the
wild mouths of flowers, then
surely, Winter crawls out of mine.

Flowers    Poetry    Seasons    Spring    Wild    Winter

TO what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

April    Beauty    Life    Poem    Poems    Poetry    Seasons    Spring

A Robin said: The Spring will never come,
And I shall never care to build again.
A Rosebush said: These frosts are wearisome,
My sap will never stir for sun or rain.
The half Moon said: These nights are fogged and slow,
I neither care to wax nor care to wane.
The Ocean said: I thirst from long ago,
Because earth's rivers cannot fill the main. —
When Springtime came, red Robin built a nest,
And trilled a lover's song in sheer delight.
Grey hoarfrost vanished, and the Rose with might
Clothed her in leaves and buds of crimson core.
The dim Moon brightened. Ocean sunned his crest,
Dimpled his blue, yet thirsted evermore.

By March, the worst of the winter would be over. The snow would thaw, the rivers begin to run and the world would wake into itself again.
Not that year.
Winter hung in there, like an invalid refusing to die. Day after grey day the ice stayed hard; the world remained unfriendly and cold.

Cold    Ice    March    Snow    Spring    Thaw    Winter

Did I live the spring I’d sought?
It’s true in joy, I walked along,
took part in dance,
and sang the song.
and never tried to bind an hour
to my borrowed garden bower;
nor did I once entreat
a day to slumber at my feet.
Yet days aren’t lulled by lyric song,
like morning birds they pass along,
o’er crests of trees, to none belong;
o’er crests of trees of drying dew,
their larking flight, my hands, eschew
Thus I’ll say it once and true…
From all that I saw,
and everywhere I wandered,
I learned that time cannot be spent,
It only can be squandered.

Dance    Living    Payne    Poesie    Poetry    Rhymes    Rhyming verse    Roman    Rooftop    Soliloquy    Song    Spring    Springtime    Time    Verse

When you paint Spring, do not paint willows, plums, peaches, or apricots, but just paint Spring. To paint willows, plums, peaches, or apricots is to paint willows, plums, peaches, or apricots - it is not yet painting Spring.

Apricots    Koan    Peaches    Plums    Spring    Willows    Zen

In Our Woods, Sometimes a Rare Music
Every spring
I hear the thrush singing
in the glowing woods
he is only passing through.
His voice is deep,
then he lifts it until it seems
to fall from the sky.
I am thrilled.
I am grateful.
Then, by the end of morning,
he's gone, nothing but silence
out of the tree
where he rested for a night.
And this I find acceptable.
Not enough is a poor life.
But too much is, well, too much.
Imagine Verdi or Mahler
every day, all day.
It would exhaust anyone.

Birds    Birdsong    Music    Nature    Serenity    Spring    Springtime



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