Funny Analogy About Spring and Teachers

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Quotes tagged as "spring" Showing 31-60 of 581

"Yes, I deserve a spring–I owe nobody nothing."
― Virginia Woolf, A Writer's Diary

"With so many trees in the city, you could see the spring coming each day until a night of warm wind would bring it suddenly in one morning. Sometimes the heavy cold rains would beat it back so that it would seem that it would never come and that you were losing a season out of your life. This was the only truly sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason.

In those days, though, the spring always came finally but it was frightening that it had nearly failed."
― Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

"The deep roots never doubt spring will come."
― Marty Rubin

"Ô, Wanderess, Wanderess
When did you feel your
most euphoric kiss?
Was I the source
of your greatest bliss?"
― Roman Payne

"April's air stirs in
Willow-leaves...a butterfly
Floats and balances"
― Bashō, Japanese Haiku

"Despite the forecast, live like it's spring."
― Lilly Pulitzer

"It always amazes me to look at the little, wrinkled brown seeds and think of the rainbows in 'em," said Captain Jim. "When I ponder on them seeds I don't find it nowise hard to believe that we've got souls that'll live in other worlds. You couldn't hardly believe there was life in them tiny things, some no bigger than grains of dust, let alone colour and scent, if you hadn't seen the miracle, could you?"
― L.M. Montgomery, Anne's House of Dreams

"And the Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast
Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest."
― Percy Bysshe Shelley, The Complete Poems

"I suppose the best kind of spring morning is the best weather God has to offer."
― Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle

"Dead my old fine hopes
And dry my dreaming but still...
Iris, blue each spring"
― Shushiki, Japanese Haiku

"Always it's Spring)and everyone's in love and flowers pick themselves."
― E.E. Cummings, 100 Selected Poems

"By March, the worst of the winter would be over. The snow would thaw, the rivers begin to run and the world would wake into itself again.

Not that year.

Winter hung in there, like an invalid refusing to die. Day after grey day the ice stayed hard; the world remained unfriendly and cold."
― Neil Gaiman, Odd and the Frost Giants

"...and so many colors
I will have seen...
the menacing greys
and pine greens
the soft pink and purples
of spring
and summer blue
and so many others
without you."
― Sanober Khan, A touch, a tear, a tempest

"TO what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers."
― Edna St. Vincent Millay

"Do you remember the Shire, Mr. Frodo? It'll be spring soon. And the orchards will be in blossom. And the birds will be nesting in the hazel thicket. And they'll be sowing the summer barley in the lower fields... and eating the first of the strawberries with cream. Do you remember the taste of strawberries?"
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King

"Too much sun after a Syracuse winter does strange things to your head, makes you feel strong, even if you aren't."
― Laurie Halse Anderson, Speak

"Come with me into the woods where spring is
advancing, as it does, no matter what,
not being singular or particular, but one
of the forever gifts, and certainly visible."
― Mary Oliver, Dog Songs

"A Robin said: The Spring will never come,
And I shall never care to build again.
A Rosebush said: These frosts are wearisome,
My sap will never stir for sun or rain.
The half Moon said: These nights are fogged and slow,
I neither care to wax nor care to wane.
The Ocean said: I thirst from long ago,
Because earth's rivers cannot fill the main. —
When Springtime came, red Robin built a nest,
And trilled a lover's song in sheer delight.
Grey hoarfrost vanished, and the Rose with might
Clothed her in leaves and buds of crimson core.
The dim Moon brightened. Ocean sunned his crest,
Dimpled his blue, yet thirsted evermore."
― Christina Rossetti

"In Our Woods, Sometimes a Rare Music
Every spring
I hear the thrush singing
in the glowing woods
he is only passing through.
His voice is deep,
then he lifts it until it seems
to fall from the sky.
I am thrilled.
I am grateful.

Then, by the end of morning,
he's gone, nothing but silence
out of the tree
where he rested for a night.
And this I find acceptable.
Not enough is a poor life.
But too much is, well, too much.
Imagine Verdi or Mahler
every day, all day.
It would exhaust anyone."
― Mary Oliver, A Thousand Mornings

"I glanced out the window at the signs of spring. The sky was almost blue, the trees were almost budding, the sun was almost bright."
― Millard Kaufman, Bowl of Cherries

"One minute it was Ohio winter, with doors closed, windows locked, the panes blind with frost, icicles fringing every roof, children skiing on slopes, housewives lumbering like great black bears in their furs along the icy streets.
And then a long wave of warmth crossed the small town. A flooding sea of hot air; it seemed as if someone had left a bakery door open. The heat pulsed among the cottages and bushes and children. The icicles dropped, shattering, to melt. The doors flew open. The windows flew up. The children worked off their wool clothes. The housewives shed their bear disguises. The snow dissolved and showed last summer's ancient green lawns.
Rocket summer. The words passed among the people in the open, airing houses. Rocket summer. The warm desert air changing the frost patterns on the windows, erasing the art work. The skis and sleds suddenly useless. The snow, falling from the cold sky upon the town, turned to a hot rain before it touched the ground.
Rocket summer. People leaned from their dripping porches and watched the reddening sky.
The rocket lay on the launching field, blowing out pink clouds of fire and oven heat. The rocket stood in the cold winter morning, making summer with every breath of its mighty exhausts. The rocket made climates, and summer lay for a brief moment upon the land...."
― Ray Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles

"When the groundhog casts his shadow
And the small birds sing
And the pussywillows happen
And the sun shines warm
And when the peepers peep
Then it is Spring"
― Margaret Wise Brown

"Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It's a sad season of life without growth…It has no day."
― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise

"So the nymphs they spoke,
we kissed and laid.
By noontime's hour
our love was made.

Like braided chains of crocus stems,
we lay entwined, I laid with them.
Our breath, one glassy, tideless sea,
our bodies draping wearily,
we slept, I slept so lucidly,
with hopes to stay this memory."
― Roman Payne, Rooftop Soliloquy

"People talk about the beauty of the spring, but I can't see it. The trees are brown and bare, slimy with rain. Some are crawling with new purple hairs. And the buds are bulging like tumorous acne, and I can tell that something wet, and soft, and cold, and misshapen is about to be born.

And I am turning into a vampire."
― M.T. Anderson, Thirsty

"The Irish are never at peace but when they're fighting."
― Mary Deasy

"Winter teetered on the verge of succumbing to the returning sun, but today the breeze still preferred the touch of snowflakes"
― Rue, An Average Curse

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Source: https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/spring?page=2

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