Spring Quotes - Page 69

A gush of bird song, a patter of dew A cloud and a rainbow's warning; Suddenly sunshine and perfect blue An April day in the morning!

the streams buck like rams in a tent / whips crack and from the hills come the crookedly combed /shadows of the shepherds. /black eggs and fools' bells fall from the trees. / thunder drums and kettledrums beat upon the ears of the donkeys. / wings brush against flowers. / fountains spring up in the eyes of the wild boar.

Christian Research Institute want to remain relevant with respect to the culture's issues and the reason we want to do that is so that people can use the deviations as spring boards or opportunities to share the truth, light, grace and peace that only Jesus Christ can bring to the human heart.

I have looked upon all the universe has to hold of horror,and even the skies of spring and flowers of summer must ever afterward be poison to me.

Ask of Her, the mighty Mother. Her reply puts this other Question: What is Spring?- Growth in every thing - Flesh and fleece, fur and feather, Grass and green world all together, Star-eyed strawberry breasted Throstle above Her nested Cluster of bugle blue eggs thin Forms and warms the life within, And bird and blossom swell In sod or sheath or shell.

`Tis substantially true, that virtue or morality is a necessary spring of popular government. The rule indeed extends with more or less force to every species of free Government.

[V]irtue or morality is a necessary spring of popular government.

Hee that is in a towne in May loseth his spring.

Courage, the highest gift, that scorns to bend To mean devices for a sordid end. Courage--an independent spark from Heaven's bright throne, By which the soul stands raised, triumphant high, alone. Great in itself, not praises of the crowd, Above all vice, it stoops not to be proud. Courage, the mighty attribute of powers above, By which those great in war, are great in love. The spring of all brave acts is seated here, As falsehoods draw their sordid birth from fear.

Best friend, my well-spring in the wilderness!

Fairy folk a-listening Hear the seed sprout in the spring, And for music to their dance Hear the hedgerows wake from trance, Sap that trembles into buds Sending little rhythmic floods Of fairy sound in fairy ears. Thus all beauty that appears Has birth as sound to finer sense And lighter-clad intelligence.

It cuts one sadly to see the grief of old people; they've no way o' working it off; and the new spring brings no new shoots out on the withered tree.

When winter stern, his gloomy front uprears, A sable void the barren earth appears; The meads no more their former verdure boast, Fast-bound their streams, and all their beauty lost; The herds, the flocks, in icy garments mourn, and wildly murmur for the Spring's return; From snow-topp'd hills the whirlwinds keenly blow, Howl through the woods, and pierce the vales below, Through the sharp air a flaky torrent flies, Mocks the slow sight, and hides the gloomy skies.

Women believe -- or at least often pretend to believe -- that all our tenderness for them springs from desire; that we love them when we have not for a time enjoyed them, and dismiss them when we are sated, or to express it more precisely, exhausted. There is no truth in this idea, though it may be made to appear true. When we are rigid with desire, we are apt to pretend a great tenderness in the hope of satisfying that desire; but at no other time are we in fact so liable to treat women brutally, and so unlikely to feel any deep emotion but one.

Cut down the forest, not just a tree. Out of the forest of desire springs danger. By cutting down both the forest of desire and the brushwood of longing, be rid of the forest, bhikkhus.

Winter always turns into Spring.

Think of the sound you make when you let go after holding your breath for a very, very long time. Think of the gladdest sound you know: the sound of dawn on the first day of spring break, the sound of a bottle of Coke opening, the sound of a crowd cheering in your ears because you're coming down to the last part of a race--and you're ahead. Think of the sound of water over stones in a cold stream, and the sound of wind through green trees on a late May afternoon in Central Park. Think of the sound of a bus coming into the station carrying someone you love. Then put all those together.

I got that nickname my first spring training camp with the Expos in 1974. Tim Foli, Ken Singleton and Mike Jorgensen started calling me 'Kid' because I was trying to win every sprint. I was trying to hit every pitch out of the park.

I'm very interested in fashion shows. For me they're at the center of everything. What happens on the side, that's the energy - it's fashion week - but fashion shows are at the heart of it. I function more like a stylist. I'm inspired, and then I try to find it on the street. What's great about a blog is that you can do completely crazy things like take the moustache shoes Marc Jacobs did for Louis Vuitton for spring and talk about what that has to do with moustaches. In fashion, what people are looking for is inspiration and new ideas all the time.

Though I do not believe in the order of things, still the sticky little leaves that come out in the spring are dear to me, the blue sky is dear to me, some people are dear to me, whom one loves sometimes, would you believe it, without even knowing why; some human deeds are dear to me, which one has perhaps long ceased believing in, but still honors with one's heart, out of old habit..." --Ivan Karamazov

Spring flies, and with it all the train it leads; and flowers, in fading, leave us but their seeds.

Youth, enthusiasm, and tenderness are like the days of spring. Instead of complaining, O my heart, of their brief duration, try to enjoy them.

The great truths of human life do not spring new born to each new generation. They derive from long experience. They are the gathered wisdom of the race. They are renewed in time of conflict and danger.

Just as the light and weightless vegetation of saltpeter floats over the old walls of houses as soon as the owner gets careless, so the literary vocation springs up in you.

Men are as we have always known them, neither better nor worse from the hearts of rogues there springs a latent honesty, from the depths of honest men there emerges a brutish appetite - a thirst for extermination, a desire for blood.