Related Quotes
spring farewell bird
Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay, And at my casement sing, Though it should prove a farewell lay And this our parting spring. * * * * * Then, little Bird, this boon confer, Come, and my requiem sing, Nor fail to be the harbinger Of everlasting spring. William Wordsworth
spring passion blood
It feeds and grows on the blood which it sheds. The passions , from which it springs, gain strength and fury from indulgence. William Ellery Channing
spring reading writing
If I'm still wistful about On the Road, I look on the rest of the Kerouac oeuvre--the poems, the poems!--in horror. Read Satori in Paris lately? But if I had never read Jack Kerouac's horrendous poems, I never would have had the guts to write horrendous poems myself. I never would have signed up for Mrs. Safford's poetry class the spring of junior year, which led me to poetry readings, which introduced me to bad red wine, and after that it's all just one big blurry condemned path to journalism and San Francisco. Sarah Vowell
spring fall eye
Stephen kissed me in the spring, Robin in the fall, But Colin only looked at me And never kissed at all. Stephen’s kiss was lost in jest, Robin’s lost in play, But the kiss in Colin’s eyes Haunts me night and day. Sara Teasdale
spring war rain
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound; And frogs in the pool singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white; Robins will wear their feathery fire, Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire; And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done. Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, If mankind perished utterly; And Spring herself when she woke at dawn Would scarcely know that we were gone. Sara Teasdale
spring moving heart
The spring is fresh and fearless And every leaf is new, The world is brimmed with moonlight, The lilac brimmed with dew. Here in the moving shadows I catch my breath and sing - My heart is fresh and fearless And over-brimmed with spring. Sara Teasdale
spring april
I could not be so sure of Spring / Save that it sings in me. Sara Teasdale
spring flower writing
When a poet mentions the spring, we know that the zephyrs are about to whisper, that the groves are to recover their verdure, the linnets to warble forth their notes of love, and the flocks and herds to frisk over vales painted with flowers: yet, who is there so insensible of the beauties of nature, so little delighted with the renovation of the world, as not to feel his heart bound at the mention of the spring? Samuel Johnson
spring winter play
It is a hopeless endeavour to unite the contrarieties of spring and winter; it is unjust to claim the privileges of age, and retain the play-things of childhood. Samuel Johnson
flower night urban-legends
'American Horror' goes for a very specific kind of Seventies suburban downer ambience - 'Flowers in the Attic' paperbacks, Black Sabbath album covers and late-night flicks like 'Let's Scare Jessica to Death.' It even has 'Go Ask Alice'-era urban legends. Rob Sheffield
flower years nuts
Some persons resemble certain trees, such as the nut, which flowers in February and ripens its fruit in September; or the juniper and the arbutus; which take a whole year or more to perfect their fruit; and others, the cherry, which takes between two an three months. Richard Whately
flower butterfly sky
Without butterflies, the world would soon have few flowers. There is enough room in the sky for all flyers. Trina
flower long stories
Long as there's a sun that sets, Primroses will have their glory; Long as there are violets, They will have a place in story: There's a flower that shall be mine, 'Tis the little Celandine. William Wordsworth
flower dancing fluttering
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. William Wordsworth
flower sleep heart
The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune. William Wordsworth
flower air wreaths
'Tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes! William Wordsworth
flower smell shy
The flower that smells the sweetest is shy and lowly. William Wordsworth
flower thinking should-have
Another thing much too commonly seen, is an aberration of the human mind which otherwise I should have been ashamed to warn you of. It is technically called carpet-gardening. Need I explain it further? I had rather not, for when I think of it, even when I am quite alone, I blush with shame at the thought. William Morris
winter grace grows
Grace grows best in winter. Samuel Rutherford
winter night drawing
The short winter’s day was drawing to a close. It seems to me sometimes that these are the only days I have ever known, and especially that most charming moment of all, just before night wipes them out. Samuel Beckett
winter white swans
Swans in the winter air A white perfection have W. H. Auden
winter thinking rocks
I think it was lucky that during most of the work on the Odyssey I lived on Homer's sea in houses that were, in one case, shaken by the impact of the Mediterranean winter storms on the rocks below. Robert Fitzgerald
winter thinking green
No one thinks of winter when the grass is green. Rudyard Kipling
winter mind want
And some places you been before are so great that you don't ever mind going back. Some places you been before you don't ever want to go back, you know, like Montreal in the Winter. Morgan Freeman
winter should-have two
On that walk around the building, two sets of cops coming out stopped to tell our guys to hustle us inside so they could head back out on the road. Accidents everywhere. A pileup on each of two major roads. “Welcome to winter,” one said. “When fifty percent of drivers should have their licenses temporarily suspended. Kelley Armstrong
winter thinking names
Hassan and I fed from the same breasts. We took our first steps on the same lawn in the same yard. And, under the same roof, we spoke our first words. Mine was Baba. His was Amir. My name. Looking back on it now, I think the foundation for what happened in the winter of 1975 —and all that followed— was already laid in those first words. Khaled Hosseini
winter should-have despair
You know what despair is; then winter should have meaning for you. Louise Gluck