Quotes
Quotes about Spring
Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.
Autumn arrives in the early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.
The men and women who have the right ideals ... are those who have the courage to strive for the happiness which comes only with labor and effort and self-sacrifice, and those whose joy in life springs in part from power of work and sense of duty.
When great poets sing, Into the night new constellations spring, With music in the air that dulls the craft Of rhetoric. So when Shakespeare sang or laughed The world with long, sweet Alpine echoes thrilled Voiceless to scholars' tongues no muse had filled With melody divine.
O, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day! -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act i. Sc. 3.
The most curious offspring of shame is shyness.
The murmur that springs From the growing of grass.
It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone.
Coming out of BYU's football spring, 1999, practice: We might have a chance to be pretty good.
Now spring returns; but not to me returns The vernal joy my better years have known; Dim in my breast life's dying taper burns, And all the joys of life with health have flown.
Gentle Spring!--in sunshine clad, Well dost thou thy power display! For Winter maketh the light heart said, And thou,--makest the sad heart gay.
And the spring comes slowly up this way.
Spring hangs her infant blossoms on the trees, Rock'd in the cradle of the western breeze.
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."
in Just-- spring when the world is mud-- luscious the little lame balloonman whistles far and wee
Starred forget-me-nots smile sweetly, Ring, bluebells, ring! Winning eye and heart completely, Sing, robin, sing! All among the reeds and rushes, Where the brook its music hushes, Bright the caloposon blushes,__ Laugh, O murmuring Spring!
A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King.
April is the cruelest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain.
Daughter of heaven and earth, coy Spring, With sudden passion languishing, Teaching barren moors to smile, Painting pictures mile on mile, Holds a cup of cowslip wreaths Whence a smokeless incense breathes.
Eternal Spring, with smiling Verdue here Warms the mild Air, and crowns the youthful year. . . . . The Rose still blushes, and the vi'lets blow.
When Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil.
The spring's already at the gate With looks my care beguiling; The country round appeareth straight A flower-garden smiling.
The beauteous eyes of the spring's fair night With comfort are downward gazing.
Sweet Spring, full of sweet dayes and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My musick shows ye have your closes, And all must die.
They know who keep a broken tryst, Till something from the Spring be missed We have not truly known the Spring.
