Every year, back comes Spring, with nasty little birds yapping their fool heads off and the ground all mucked up with plants.
Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.
To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.
You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.
Unless a tree has borne blossoms in spring, you will vainly look for fruit on it in autumn.
The year hastens to its close. What is it to me? That I am twenty-five or fifty-eight is as nothing. Should I mourn that the spring flowers are gone, that the summer fruit has ripened, that the harvest is reaped, that the snow has fallen?
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
[Spring is] when life's alive in everything.
If there comes a little thaw,
Still the air is chill and raw,
Here and there a patch of snow,
Dirtier than the ground below,
Dribbles down a marshy flood;
Ankle-deep you stick in mud In the meadows while you sing,
"This is Spring.
—Christopher Pearce Cranch
Well, spring sprang. We've had our state of grace and our little gift of sanctioned madness, courtesy of Mother Nature. Thanks, Gaia. Much obliged. I guess it's time to get back to that daily routine of living we like to call normal.
Listen, can you hear it? Spring's sweet cantata. The strains of grass pushing through the snow. The song of buds swelling on the vine. The tender timpani of a baby robin's heart. Spring.
—Diane Frolov and Andrew Schneider
Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush.
A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King.
[Spring is] a true reconstructionist.
If winter comes, can spring be far behind?
—Percy Bysshe Shelley
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, when birds do sing... sweet lovers love the spring.