Spring makes everything look filthy.
Spring is when you feel like whistling, even with a shoe full of slush.
Spring is when life's alive in everything.
Spring is very energising to me.
Spring is the time of year when it is summer in the sun and winter in the shade.
Spring is the time of the year when it is summer in the sun and winter in the shade.
Spring is the fresh green of young corn and the pink blush of blossoms. Autumn contrasts the yellowed foilage with violet hues. Winter is the white of snow against its black forms ... Summer is the contrast of blues and the golden bronze of the corn.
Spring is super in the supermarkets and the strawberries prance and glow never mind that they're all kinda tart and tasteless as strawberries go meanwhile wild things are not for sale anymore than they are for show so i'll be outside, in love with the kind of beauty it takes more than eyes to know.
Spring is sooner recognized by plants than by men.
Spring is noticed, if at all By people sitting in railway trains.
Spring is my sweetheart.
Spring is made of solid, fourteen-karat gratitude, the reward for the long wait. Every religious tradition from the northern hemisphere honors some form of April hallelujah, for this is the season of exquisite redemption, a slam-bang return to joy after a season of cold second thoughts.
Spring is come home with her world-wandering feet, And all things are made young with your desires.
Spring is beautiful, and summer is perfect for vacations, but autumn brings a longing to get away from the unreal things of life, out into the forest at night with a campfire and the rustling leaves.
Spring is beautiful everywhere, but it is more than beautiful in Lebanon. Spring is the spirit of an unknown God speeding through the world, which, as it reaches Lebanon, pauses, because now it is as at home with the souls of the Prophets and Kings hovering over the land, chanting with the brooks of Judea, the eternal Psalms of Solomon, renewing with the Cedars of Lebanon memories of an ancient glory.
Spring is always cruel, with its false promise of resurrection.
Spring is a powerful spell.
The blue. The clouds high up and puffy. The air warmer than it's been for weeks.
Spring is God's way of saying, 'One more time!'
Spring has many American faces. There are cities where it will come and go in a day and counties where it hangs around and never quite gets there. Summer is drawn blinds in Louisiana, long winds in Wyoming, shade of elms and maples in New England.