Science has never drummed up quite as effective a tranquilizing agent as a sunny spring day.
Every spring is the only spring - a perpetual astonishment.
Spring is sooner recognized by plants than by men.
Spring makes its own statement, so loud and clear that the gardener seems to be only one of the instruments, not the composer.
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!
Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush.
Autumn arrives in early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.
Rebellion without truth is like spring in a bleak, arid desert.
When spring comes the grass grows by itself.
Nothing is so beautiful as spring - when weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely and lush; Thrush's eggs look little low heavens, and thrush through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring the ear, it strikes like lightning to hear him sing.
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.
Beneath the crisp and wintry carpet hid A million buds but stay their blossoming And trustful birds have built their nests amid The shuddering boughs, and only wait to sing Till one soft shower from the south shall bid And hither tempt the pilgrim steps of Spring.
A Spring returns, and they more youthful made; But Man grows old, lies down, remains where once he's laid.
For always the man in whom thought springs up over thought sets his mark farther off, for the one thought saps the force of the other.
Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
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, wintery 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 died for no reason.
Now every field is clothed with grass, and every tree with leaves; now the woods put forth their blossoms, and the year assumes its gay attire.
What a strange thing! to be alive beneath cherry blossoms.
It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
I think that no matter how old or infirm I may become, I will always plant a large garden in the spring. Who can resist the feelings of hope and joy that one gets from participating in nature’s rebirth?
In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.
April prepares her green traffic light and the world thinks Go.
Spring is the time of plans and projects.
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