When I go into the garden with a spade and dig a bed I feel such an exhilaration and health that I discover that I have been defrauding myself all this time in letting others do for me what I should have done with my own hands.
The air and the earth interpenetrated in the warm gusts of spring; the soil was full of sunlight, and the sunlight full of red dust. The air one breathed was saturated with earthy smells, and the grass under foot had a reflection of the blue sky in it.
One swallow does not make a summer, but one skein of geese, cleaving the murk of March thaw, is the Spring.
April prepares her green traffic light and the world thinks Go.
Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence.
Are we to look at cherry blossoms only in full bloom, the moon only when it is cloudless? To long for the moon while looking on the rain, to lower the blinds and be unaware of the passing of the spring - these are even more deeply moving. Branches about to blossom or gardens strewn with flowers are worthier of our admiration.
When the April wind wakes the call for the soil, I hold the plough as my only hold upon the earth, and, as I follow through the fresh and fragrant furrow, I am planted with every foot-step, growing, budding, blooming into a spirit of spring.
No Winter lasts forever, no Spring skips its turn. April is a promise that May is bound to keep, and we know it.
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.
Daughter of heaven and earth, coy Spring, With sudden passion languishing, Teaching barren moors to smile, Painting pictures mile on mile, Holds a cup of cowslip wreaths Whence a smokeless incense breathes.
Poor, dear, silly Spring, preparing her annual surprise!
I played a heap of snow in a school play. I was under a sheet, and crawled out when spring came. I often say I'll never reach the same artistic level again.
Chicago is an October sort of city even in spring.
I have always tried to hide my efforts and wished my works to have a light joyousness of springtime which never lets anyone suspect the labors it has cost me.
Sometimes the whole world is mud luscious and puddle wonderful
They know who keep a broken tryst, Till something from the Spring be missed We have not truly known the Spring.
You can't see Canada across lake Erie, but you know it's there. It's the same with spring. You have to have faith, especially in Cleveland.
At my age flowers scare me.
The spring's already at the gate With looks my care beguiling; The country round appeareth straight A flower-garden smiling.
Earth, my dearest, oh believe me, you no longer need your springtimes to win me over...Unspeakably, I have belonged to you, from the flush.
Indoors or out, no one relaxes In March, that month of wind and taxes, The wind will presently disappear, The taxes last us all the year.
I stuck my head out the window this morning and spring kissed me bang in the face.
The Olympic Games are the quadrennial celebration of the springtime of humanity.
Don't forget it's daylight savings time. You spring forward, then you fall back. It's like Robert Downey Jr. getting out of bed.
That God once loved a garden we learn in Holy writ. And seeing gardens in the Spring I well can credit it.
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