A Quote by Alice Dunbar Nelson

I had not thought of violets of late,
The wild, shy kind that springs beneath you feet
In wistful April days. — © Alice Dunbar Nelson
I had not thought of violets of late, The wild, shy kind that springs beneath you feet In wistful April days.
Ah, March! we know thou art Kind-hearted, spite of ugly looks and threats, And, out of sight, art nursing April's violets!
When I was 21 I think I thought I was 31. I was always kind of doing the right thing, and it wasn't until my late twenties that I became just a completely wild asshole. So I should've had that out of my system already and I was too busy being a grown-up.
I stepped closer still. He closed his eyes again and covered my hand with his own. 'You smell of violets. You always smell of violets,' he said. 'You've no idea how many times I have walked these moors and smelled them and thought you were near. On and on I walked, following the scent of you, and you were never there. When I saw you in the hall tonight, I thought I had finally gone mad.
The fallen autumn leaves were slick beneath Bod's feet, and the mists blurred the edges of the world. Nothing was as clean-cut as he had thought it, a few minutes before.
I think the Internet is an awful lot like FM radio was when it broke out in the late '60s. It's kind of a wild and wily kind of format. They could play 20 songs in a row that had the word 'blue' in them, or whatever they wanted to do.
Sweet April-time - O cruel April-time! Year after year returning, with a brow Of promise, and red lips with longing paled, And backward-hidden hands that clutch the joys Of vanished springs, like flowers.
He thought how sad it was to be an Animal who had never had a bunch of violets picked for him.
I had diverged, digressed, wandered, and become wild. I didn't embrace the word as my new name because it defined negative aspects of my circumstances or life, but because even in my darkest days—those very days in which I was naming myself—I saw the power of the darkness. Saw that, in fact, I had strayed and that I was a stray and that from the wild places my straying had brought me, I knew things I couldn't have known before.
Be not ashamed to have had wild days, but not to have sown your wild oats.
Stars will blossom in the darkness, Violets bloom beneath the snow.
April 19 And now it is spring. Birds are singing. Wistful notes and jubilant. And bare streets and no need for coats, and skipping ropes and bicycles and a thin new moon.
April Rain It is not raining rain to me, It's raining daffodils; In every dimpled drop I see Wild flowers on the hills. The clouds of gray engulf the day And overwhelm the town; It is not raining rain to me, It's raining roses down. It is not raining rain to me, But fields of clover bloom, Where any buccaneering bee May find a bed and room. A health unto the happy! A fig for him who frets!- It is not raining rain to me, It's raining violets.
I was elected on April 13 and sworn in two days later, so I had no orientation. I had to figure things out as I went along.
When April steps aside for May, Like diamonds all the rain-drops glisten; Fresh violets open every day: To some new bird each hour we listen.
Dirty days hath September April June and November From January up to May The rain it raineth every day All the rest have thirty-one Without a blessed gleam of sun And if any of them had two-and-thirty They'd be just as wet and twice as dirty." "April hath put a spirit of youth in everything.
You always feel the ground rumbling beneath your feet, and if you don't, you're an idiot. Mostly because it is rumbling beneath your feet, and there is always someone who is coming up behind you who is as good, younger, and, at least as you perceive it, has more energy and more nimbleness than you.
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