Springtime Quotes

Quotes tagged as "springtime" Showing 1-30 of 103
Then came the healing time, hearts started to shine, soul felt so fine, oh what
“Then came the healing time, hearts started to shine, soul felt so fine, oh what a freeing time it was.”
Aberjhani, Songs from the Black Skylark zPed Music Player

Mary Oliver
“In Our Woods, Sometimes a Rare Music

Every spring
I hear the thrush singing
in the glowing woods
he is only passing through.
His voice is deep,
then he lifts it until it seems
to fall from the sky.
I am thrilled.
I am grateful.

Then, by the end of morning,
he's gone, nothing but silence
out of the tree
where he rested for a night.
And this I find acceptable.
Not enough is a poor life.
But too much is, well, too much.
Imagine Verdi or Mahler
every day, all day.
It would exhaust anyone.”
Mary Oliver, A Thousand Mornings: Poems

Roman Payne
“Did I live the spring I’d sought?
It’s true in joy, I walked along,
took part in dance,
and sang the song.
and never tried to bind an hour
to my borrowed garden bower;
nor did I once entreat
a day to slumber at my feet.

Yet days aren’t lulled by lyric song,
like morning birds they pass along,
o’er crests of trees, to none belong;
o’er crests of trees of drying dew,
their larking flight, my hands, eschew
Thus I’ll say it once and true…

From all that I saw,
and everywhere I wandered,
I learned that time cannot be spent,
It only can be squandered.”
Roman Payne, Rooftop Soliloquy

Anton Chekhov
“The snow has not yet left the earth, but spring is already asking to enter your heart. If you have ever recovered from a serious illness, you will be familiar with the blessed state when you are in a delicious state of anticipation, and are liable to smile without any obvious reason. Evidently that is what nature is experiencing just now. The ground is cold, mud and snow squelches under foot, but how cheerful, gentle and inviting everything is! The air is so clear and transparent that if you were to climb to the top of the pigeon loft or the bell tower, you feel you might actually see the whole universe from end to end. The sun is shining brightly, and its playful, beaming rays are bathing in the puddles along with the sparrows. The river is swelling and darkening; it has already woken up and very soon will begin to roar. The trees are bare, but they are already living and breathing.”
Anton Chekhov, The Exclamation Mark

Richelle E. Goodrich
“Easter is…
Joining in a birdsong,
Eying an early sunrise,
Smelling yellow daffodils,
Unbolting windows and doors,
Skipping through meadows,
Cuddling newborns,
Hoping, believing,
Reviving spent life,
Inhaling fresh air,
Sprinkling seeds along furrows,
Tracking in the mud.
Easter is the soul’s first taste of spring.”
Richelle E. Goodrich, Making Wishes: Quotes, Thoughts, & a Little Poetry for Every Day of the Year

Munia Khan
“Spring is the fountain of love for thirsty winter”
Munia Khan

Pliny the Elder
“From the end spring new beginnings.”
Pliny the Elder

Vivian Swift
“POOR MARCH
It is the HOMELIEST month of the year. Most of it is MUD, Every Imaginable Form of MUD, and what isn't MUD in March is ugly late-season SNOW falling onto the ground in filthy muddy heaps that look like PILES of DIRTY LAUNDRY.”
Vivian Swift, When Wanderers Cease to Roam: A Traveler's Journal of Staying Put

Wisława Szymborska
“I don't reproach the spring
for starting up again.
I can't blame it
for doing what it must
year after year.

I know that my grief
will not stop the green.”
Wisława Szymborska, View with a Grain of Sand: Selected Poems

Lea Malot
“But why should the daffodils and tulips
Get all the praise and blessings?
My rebirth goes unnoticed- I am worthy
Of smiles and dazzled cries of worship.”
Lea Malot, Coffins & Rhinestones

Mehmet Murat ildan
“When you smell a spring flower, it's as if the soul of that flower settles inside you! And then you become that flower for a short time!”
Mehmet Murat ildan

Andrew Sean Greer
“In the suburbs of Delaware, spring meant not young love and damp flowers but an ugly divorce from winter and a second marriage to buxom summer.”
Andrew Sean Greer, Less

Susan Branch
“Spring is magic~ sweet to the senes & easy to celebrate.”
Susan branch, Vineyard Seasons: More from the Heart of the Home

“It was one of those yearning and gentle days of late spring, suddenly warm, when the air turns greenish yellow, so thick is it with pollen and bloom.”
Grace Dane Mazur, The Garden Party

Bhuwan Thapaliya
“Spring is when
flowers beckon
in every corner
of your heart.”
Bhuwan Thapaliya, Safa Tempo: Poems New & Selected

“With the unfurling of spring
rainbows of blossom
comes out of the soil
smile and innocuously sway in euphoria
on choir of birds
under dance-direction of zephyr
stroking my soul with sallow, and orange tinges
that glide as amorphous fluffs in the pristine sky.”
Spriha Kant

“Sing, do the birds of spring
For a sweet passionate rain
landed on her parched lips”
Spriha Kant

“Circled and tingled
brutally
by chilly wind
Euphoria rimed
Then arrived
thawing wind and rain
melting rime on euphoria
By
choir of birds
sway of
the host of
tulips, daffodils,
and crocuses on
breeze’s croon
it was known
spring blew in
on the breeze”
Spriha Kant

Maria Vale
“Maybe I don’t know the names of any of the flowers of Vrangelya, but I know every one here. I know that soon the ground will be covered with white-and- yellow
bloodroot. Tiny explosive trout lily. Mounds
of green-framed white trillium. Rue anemone in the palest pink. All blooming in the short frame between the thawing of the ground and the leaf-out that will block the sun.
It’s what happens in spring when all of Homelands calls out:
Look at me.
Listen to me.
Love me.
Make life with me.”
Maria Vale, Forever Wolf

A.D. Aliwat
“The week leading into spring marks the start of the hunt.”
A.D. Aliwat, In Limbo

Stewart Stafford
“The Springtime Guest by Stewart Stafford

From winter's wounded sleep,
Dear Nature rouses itself again,
Bearing no ill will for the scars,
Timely movement blooms again.

Bursting colour, praising birdsong,
Easy smiles when sprightly of step,
Lambs and cats frolic in sunny play,
Banishing winter's despair for now.

Welcome warm kisses on the wind,
Summer's young sibling promises,
Much more to come in rolling time,
With comfort in the heart of progress.

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
Stewart Stafford

Emiko Jean
“I put my phone away and stare out the window at Japan's countryside, watching the scenery zip by at 320 kilometers per hour. Mount Fuji has come and gone, as have laundry on metal merry-go-racks, houses plastered with party signs, weathered baseball diamonds, an ostrich farm, and now, miles of rice paddy fields tended by people wearing conical hats and straw coats. Japan is dressed in her best this morning, sunny and breezy, with few clouds in the sky as accessories. It's the first official day of spring. Cherry blossoms have disappeared in twists of wind or trampled into the ground. Takenoko, bamboo season, will begin soon.”
Emiko Jean, Tokyo Ever After

“When the scales of the blues
do not subside then
from the horizon whispers spring
hypnotizing
the choir of the birds
the breeze
the flowers
the vegetation
the folks
in the sway of its beauty”
Spriha Kant

“When the scales of the blues
do not subside then
from the horizon
whispers spring
hypnotizing
the choir of the birds
the breeze
the flowers
the vegetation
the folks
in the sway of its beauty”
Spriha Kant

“I am a maggot
Locked in stagnation
Longing
for blossom petalled mornings
that will pop out my feelings
out of the hoarfrost”
Spriha Kant

“Within spring’s first breath
our hearts and souls
interlaced
and we transmogrified
into a braid
A moment
that shall
thrum forever
in our realm of stellar wonder”
Spriha Kant

Bhuwan Thapaliya
“We will keep on planting flowers until spring is ours.”
Bhuwan Thapaliya

Diane C. McPhail
“February gave way to March, with its bursting colors of a too-early spring. Such warm weather was a welcome contrast to the near freezes of the previous year, as if this newborn century was impatient to exhibit its glory and all the unforeseen changes it would bring. Alice’s heart expanded at the sight of white snowdrops in lieu of absent snow; the vivid purples of wild petunias, pincushion flowers, and irises laced with the varying hues of tulips; and the glorious flowering shrubs---azaleas and camellias---lighting up the shade, covered entirely in blossoms as if they nurtured blooms but no leaves. She had seen the prairie carpeted in wildflowers, but this display was unlike that wild one of nature, somehow singularly intimate and welcoming, whereas the prairie engulfed and dwarfed her. There is not one thing that humankind has done on earth that is equal to one square inch of this, she thought.”
Diane C. McPhail, The Seamstress of New Orleans

Anthony Capella
“The carciofini were good at the moment, no doubt about it, particularly the romagnolo, a variety of artichoke exclusive to the region, so sweet and tender it could even be eaten raw. Puntarelle, a local bitter chicory, would make a heavenly salad. In the Vini e Olio he found a rare Torre Ercolana, a wine that combined Cabernet and Merlot with the local Cesanese grape. The latter had been paired with the flavors of Roman cuisine for over a thousand years: they went together like an old married couple. There was spring lamb in abundance, and he was able to track down some good abbachio, suckling lamb that had been slaughtered even before it had tasted grass.
From opportunities like these, he began to fashion a menu, letting the theme develop in his mind. A Roman meal, yes, but more than that. A springtime feast, in which every morsel spoke of resurgence and renewal, old flavors restated with tenderness and delicacy, just as they had been every spring since time began. He bought a bottle of oil that came from a tiny estate he knew of, a fresh pressing whose green, youthful flavors tasted like a bowl of olives just off the tree. He hesitated before a stall full of fat white asparagus from Bassano del Grappa, on the banks of the fast-flowing river Brenta. It was outrageously expensive, but worth it for such quality, he decided, as the stallholder wrapped a dozen of the pale spears in damp paper and handed it to Bruno with a flourish, like a bouquet of the finest flowers.
His theme clarified itself the more he thought about it. It was to be a celebration of youth---youth cut short, youth triumphant, youth that must be seized and celebrated.”
Anthony Capella, The Food of Love

“Revelers in green stumbled from pub to pub as I drove away yesterday from springtime in Washington, a collage of the organic and the man-made--- redbud and sidewalk, dogwood and car. Small trees in the easement showed feathery pink blossoms.
I've left the delicacy of spring for a hot, sodden green, the cruise control carrying me south through Virginia and the Carolinas, Georgia, and farther on toward the place where Florida's panhandle curves in and resort beaches fade into a coastline of dense and mangrove and fingerling waterways. Slightly inland from the Gulf sits my hometown of Tenetkee, where the water transitions slowly to land.”
Virginia Hartman, The Marsh Queen

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