A Quote by Mehmet Murat Ildan

If a man gives you a harsh winter, give him back something unexpected: The warm spring! — © Mehmet Murat Ildan
If a man gives you a harsh winter, give him back something unexpected: The warm spring!
The air's warm with hopeful hints of spring in it. Spring would be a good time for an uprising, I think. Everyone feels less vulnerable once winter passes.
In March winter is holding back and spring is pulling forward. Something holds and something pulls inside of us too.
Stand by your man. Give him two arms to cling to and something warm to come to.
Spring still makes spring in the mind When sixty years are told: Love wakes anew this throbbing heart, And we are never old Over the winter glaciers I see the summer glow And through the wind-piled snowdrift The warm rosebuds below.
Winter always turns into Spring. Never, from ancient times on, has anyone heard or seen of winter turning back to autumn.
A man with a warm heart is no different than a warm house in the middle of a bitter winter!
The East and the West in the spring of the world shall blend / As a man and a woman that plight / Their troth in the warm spring night.
Through winter-time we call on spring, And through the spring on summer call, And when the abounding hedges ring Declare that winter's best of all: And after that there's nothing good Because the spring time has not come- Not know that what disturbs our blood Is but its longing for the tomb.
Autumn to winter, winter into spring, Spring into summer, summer into fall,-- So rolls the changing year, and so we change; Motion so swift, we know not that we move.
All human life has its seasons and cycles, and no one's personal chaos can be permanent. Winter, after all, gives way to spring and summer, though sometimes when branches stay dark and the earth cracks with ice, one thinks they will never come, that spring, and that summer, but they do, and always.
June, July, all through the warm months she hibernated like a winter animal who did not know spring had come and gone.
We did a play in the third grade all about Winter not wanting to give over his throne to Spring. That was my first title role, and I took full advantage of it. I felt like there was no one else on that stage but Ms. Spring.
When all the world appears to be in a tumult, and nature itself is feeling the assault of climate change, the seasons retain their essential rhythm. Yes, fall gives us a premonition of winter, but then, winter, will be forced to relent, once again, to the new beginnings of soft greens, longer light, and the sweet air of spring.
Spring is the season of gaiety, and winter of terror; in spring the heart of tranquility dances to the melody of the groves, and the eye of benevolence sparkles at the sight of happiness and plenty: in winter, compassion melts at universal calamity, and the tear of softness starts at the wailing of hunger and the cries of the creation in distress
The winter solstice has always been special to me as a barren darkness that gives birth to a verdant future beyond imagination, a time of pain and withdrawal that produces something joyfully inconceivable, like a monarch butterfly masterfully extracting itself from the confines of its cocoon, bursting forth into unexpected glory.
I think a man can keep on drinking for centuries, he'll never die; especially wine or beer...I like drunkards, man, because drunkards, they come out of it, and they're sick and they spring back, they spring back and forth...If I hadn't been a drunkard, I probably would have committed suicide long ago.
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