Spring Quotes

“A poor old Widow in her weeds
Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds;
Not too shallow, and not too deep,
And down came April -- drip -- drip -- drip.
Up shone May, like gold, and soon
Green as an arbour grew leafy June.
And now all summer she sits and sews
Where willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows,
Teasle and pansy, meadowsweet,
Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit;
Brown bee orchis, and Peals of Bells;
Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells;
Like Oberon's meadows her garden is
Drowsy from dawn to dusk with bees.
Weeps she never, but sometimes sighs,
And peeps at her garden with bright brown eyes;
And all she has is all she needs --
A poor Old Widow in her weeds.”
― Walter de la Mare, Peacock Pie

“When you paint Spring, do not paint willows, plums, peaches, or apricots, but just paint Spring. To paint willows, plums, peaches, or apricots is to paint willows, plums, peaches, or apricots - it is not yet painting Spring.”
― Eihei Dogen

“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

“I love the smell of rain and growing things.”
― Serina Hernandez

“Something in the air this morning made me feel like flying. . . "

Spring Flight”
― Eileen Granfors, And More White Sheets: An expanded text edition

“At the best of times, spring hurts depressives.”
― Angela Carter, Shadow Dance

“I can still bring into my body the joy I felt at seeing the first trillium of spring, which seemed to be telling me, "Never give up hope, spring will come.”
― Jessica Stern, Denial: A Memoir of Terror

“Sanma ki derdim güneşten ötürü;
Ne çıkar bahar geldiyse?
Bademler çiçek açtıysa?
Ucunda ölüm yok ya.
Hoş, olsa da korkacak mıyım zaten
Güneşle gelecek ölümden
Ben ki her nisan bir yaş daha genç,
Her bahar biraz daha aşığım;
Korkar mıyım?
Ah, dostum, derdim başka...”
― Orhan Veli Kanık

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

“The time of dangling insects arrived. White houses with caterpillars dangling from the eaves. White stones in driveways. You can walk at night down the middle of the street and hear women talking on the telephone. Warmer weather produces voices in the dark. They are talking about their adolescent sons. How big, how fast. The sons are almost frightening. The quantities they eat. The way they loom in doorways. These are the days that are full of wormy bugs. They are in the grass, stuck to the siding, hanging in the hair, hanging from the trees and eaves, stuck to the window screens. The women talk long-distance to grandparents of growing boys. They share the Trimline phone, beamish old folks in hand-knit sweaters on fixed incomes.

What happens to them when the commercial ends?”
― Don DeLillo, White Noise

“Creativity is not so much a boundless well, but an all-you-can-eat buffet of elements for your creative endeavor.

Eventually you've eaten your fill, and it's time to digest and then make something.

But at some point, it will be time to return to the restaurant.”
― Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration

“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

“And over walls and earth and trees and swinging sprays and tendrils the fair green veil of tender little leaves had crept, and in the grass under the trees and the gray urns in the alcoves and here and there everywhere were touches or splashes of gold and purple and white and the trees were showing pink
and snow above his head and there were fluttering of wings and faint sweet pipes and humming and scents and scents.”
― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

“When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-whit! To-who!—a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doe blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-whit! To-who!—a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.”
― William Shakespeare, Love's Labour's Lost

“The menopause of Sarah became her menostart; this is feminine beauty! The death plot against Mordecai became his life spring; this is masculine beauty! A kind of life lived in God's word is a life of miraculous beauty!”
― Israelmore Ayivor

“But only a person in the depths of despair neglected to look beyond winter to the spring that inevitably followed, bringing back color and life and hope.”
― Mary balogh, A Matter of Class

“We'll make friends with the wind and sky and sun, and bring home spring in our hearts.”
― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea

“Gardens in Spring
with flowers abound
their scent interwoven
in the wind”
― Meeta Ahluwalia

“Despite the heart numbing frost, my soul is blooming like spring.”
― Debasish Mridha

“Someone knocked me down; I pushed Brinker over a small slope; someone was trying to tackle me from behind. Everywhere there was the smell of vitality in clothes, the vital something in wool and flannel and corduroy which spring releases. I had forgotten that this existed, this smell which instead of the first robin, or the first bud or leaf, means to me that spring has come. I had always welcomed vitality and energy and warmth radiating from thick and sturdy winter clothes. It made me happy, but I kept wondering about next spring, about whether khaki, or suntans or whatever the uniform of the season was, had this aura of promise in it. I felt fairly sure it didn't.”
― john knowles

“Trees still grow after letting dead things go.”
― Darnell Lamont Walker

“The delicious soft, spring-suggesting air,—how it fills my veins with life! Life becomes again credible to me. A certain dormant life awakes in me, and I begin to love nature again.”
― Henry David Thoreau, The Journal, 1837-1861

“Spring came late. For the children, shut in the dark, cold parsonage, adjusting to Aunt and getting over the death that brought her, the winter had seemed endless. But now the rough moor was flecked with racing cloud shadows; the maltreated holly tree had stopped weeping; the green mould on the graves had dried to an unsuggestive grey.

The church could never look cheerful. It was too black, and its voice, the bell, always said 'Fu - ner -al... fu - ner- al...' even when it was only calling them to hear one of their Papa's dramatic sermons.”
― Lynne Reid Banks, Dark Quartet: The Story of the Brontës

“Surely the flowers of a hundred springs are simply the souls of beautiful things!”
― L.M. Montgomery, The Watchman and Other Poems

“Let go of yesterday. Let today be a new beginning and be the best that you can, and you’ll get to where God wants you to be.”
― Joel Osteen

“The apple blossoms were just out, dancing like white froth in the April breezes.”
― Nancy McKenzie, Queen of Camelot

“Spring buds burst to bloom, and the river carries their song of life.”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Early spring. Hyacinths on my desk. Intoxicating, sweet, fresh, alive—the sticky, cloying scent of a novice’s hope. Hope for light, for warmth, for thawing soil.”
― Beth Wiles, Show Me All Your Scars: True Stories of Living with Mental Illness

“You are not the load you carried for all those years, you are not the homeless heart adrift at sea, but you are the flowering youth passing through the winter to spring.....”
― Jayita Bhattacharjee

“Papa always says, you can fix soil, and you can build houses, but there's no point if the land don't have water.”
― Hope Larson, Salt Magic