Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer does come.
May is a pious fraud of the almanac.
April comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
One swallow does not make a summer, but one skein of geese, cleaving the murk of March thaw, is the Spring.
Sometimes the whole world is mud luscious and puddle wonderful
There is no season such delight can bring, as summer, autumn, winter and the spring.
The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful.
Hee that is in a towne in May loseth his spring.
In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
Expect to have hope rekindled. The dry seasons in life do not last. The spring rains will come again.
Hoe while it is spring, and enjoy the best anticipations. It is not much matter if things do not turn out well.
The naked earth is warm with Spring,
And with green grass and bursting trees
Leans to the sun's kiss glorying,
And quivers in the sunny breeze.
Spring is God's way of saying, 'One more time!'
I suppose the best kind of spring morning is the best weather God has to offer.
When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest.
It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
The first day of spring was once the time for taking the young virgins into the fields, there in dalliance to set an example in fertility for nature to follow. Now we just set the clocks an hour ahead and change the oil in the crankcase.
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.
The only thing that could spoil a day was people. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.
A man has every season while a woman only has the right to spring.
She turned to the sunlight And shook her yellow head, And whispered to her neighbor: "Winter is dead.
Spring won't let me stay in this house any longer! I must get out and breathe the air deeply again.
The seasons are what a symphony ought to be: four perfect movements in harmony with each other.
Sitting quietly, doing nothing, Spring comes, and the grass grows, by itself.
For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends