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.
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.
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
Summer makes me drowsy. Autumn makes me sing. Winter's pretty lousy, but I hate Spring.
If winter should say, 'Spring is in my heart,' who would believe winter?
Winter isn't forever. Winter is always followed by spring. And it's how to take advantage of whatever season you're in.
There's four seasons in the UK, spring, autumn, winter and winter.
When the winter comes, be very happy; because the spring comes only if the winter comes!
Poets and songwriters speak highly of spring as one of the great joys of life in the temperate zone, but in the real world most of spring is disappointing. We looked forward to it too long, and the spring we had in mind in February was warmer and dryer than the actual spring when it finally arrives. We'd expected it to be a whole season, like winter, instead of a handful of separate moments and single afternoons.
Do not wish an everlasting spring! Without tasting the winter, you cannot get pleasure out of the spring!
winter is past, and we have a prospect of spring that is superior to spring itself.
Winter always turns into Spring. Never, from ancient times on, has anyone heard or seen of winter turning back to autumn.
There cannot be a sense of abundance or the experience of prosperity without appreciation. You cannot find beauty unless you appreciate beauty. You cannot find friendship unless you appreciate others. You cannot find love unless you appreciate loving and being loved. If you wish abundance, appreciate life.
The experience of beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as they say. The artist's relation to the object of beauty, how the art makes that happen, is a whole other subject. Beauty is an event. Beauty is something that happens. There is no such thing as a beautiful object or a beautiful woman. These things do not come near it - the experience of beauty, the event of beauty. The anxiety about it is what makes it such a central concern of culture and makes us so interested in it.
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.