I had heard the old Indian legend about the red fern. How a little Indian boy and girl were lost in a blizzard and had frozen to death. In the spring, when they were found, a beautiful red fern had grown up between their two bodies. The story went on to say that only an angel could plant the seeds of a red fern, and that they never died; where one grew, that spot was sacred.
She couldn't make him look just like any other man to her. He looked like the love thoughts of women. He could be a bee to a blossom - a pear tree blossom in the spring. He seemed to be crushing scent out of the world with his footsteps. Crushing aromatic herbs with every step he took. Spices hung above him. He was a glance from God.
Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning, spring.
It is no secret. All power is one in source and end, I think. Years and distances, stars and candles, water and wind and wizardry, the craft in a man's hand and the wisdom in a tree's root: they all arise together. My name, and yours, and the true name of the sun, or a spring of water, or an unborn child, all are syllables of the great word that is very slowly spoken by the shining of the stars. There is no other power. No other name.
The air's warm with hopeful hints of spring in it. Spring would be a good time for an uprising, I think. Everyone feels less vulnerable once winter passes.
We eat the year away. We eat the spring and the summer and the fall. We wait for something to grow and then we eat it.
Love fills everything. It cannot be desired because it is an end in itself. It cannot betray because it has nothing to do with possession. It cannot be held prisoner because it is a river and will overflow its banks. Anyone who tries to imprison love will cut off the spring that feeds it, and the trapped water will grow stagnant.
To think that the affairs of this life always remain in the same state is a vain presumption; indeed they all seem to be perpetually changing and moving in a circular course. Spring is followed by summer, summer by autumn, and autumn by winter, which is again followed by spring, and so time continues its everlasting round. But the life of man is ever racing to its end, swifter than time itself, without hope of renewal, unless in the next that is limitless and infinite.
Was that the beginning, that evening? It's hard to know. Beginnings are sudden, but also insidious. They creep up on you sideways, they keep to the shadows, they lurk unrecognized. Then, later, they spring.
Spring is the time of plans and projects.
Let me say something about that word: miracle. For too long it's been used to characterize things or events that, though pleasant, are entirely normal. Peeping chicks at Easter time, spring generally, a clear sunrise after an overcast week--a miracle, people say, as if they've been educated from greeting cards.
She's got so many azalea bushes, her yard's going to look like Gone With the Wind come spring. I don't like azaleas and I sure didn't like that movie, the way they made slavery look like a big happy tea party. If I'd played Mammy, I'd of told Scarlett to stick those green draperies up her white little pooper. Maker her own damn man-catching dress.
He would have told her - he would have said, it matters not if you are here or there, for I see you before me every moment. I see you in the light of the water, in the swaying of the young trees in the spring wind. I see you in the shadows of the great oaks, I hear your voice in the cry of the owl at night. You are the blood in my veins, and the beating of my heart. You are my first waking thought, and my last sigh before sleeping. You are - you are bone of my bone, and breath of my breath.
The Santa Anas blew in hot from the desert, shriveling the last of the spring grass into whiskers of pale straw. Only the oleanders thrived, their delicate poisonous blooms, their dagger green leaves. We could not sleep in the hot dry nights, my mother and I.
Anne could not immediately fall into a quotation again. The sweet scenes of autumn were for a while put by - unless some tender sonnet, fraught with the apt analogy of the declining year, with declining happiness, and the images of youth and hope, and spring, all gone together, blessed her memory.
From the girl who sat before me now...surged a fresh and physical life force. She was like a small animal that has popped into the world with the coming of spring. Her eyes moved like an independent organism with joy, laughter, anger, amazement, and despair. I hadn't seen a face so vivid and expressive in ages, and I enjoyed watching it live and move.
Just as you take care of the birds and the fields every morning, every morning I wind my own spring. I give it some thirty-six good twists by the time I've gotten up, brushed my teeth, shaved, eaten breakfast, changed my clothes, left the dorm, and arrived at the university. I tell myself, Ok, let's make this day another good one.
It was a narrow world, a world that was standing still. But the narrower it became, the more it betook of stillness, the more this world that enveloped me seemed to overflow with things and people that could only be called strange. They had been there all the while, it seemed, waiting in the shadows for me to stop moving. And every time the wind-up bird came to my yard to wind its spring, the world descendedmore deeply into chaos.
The fault-finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is. You may perhaps have some pleasant, thrilling, glorious hours, even in a poor-house. The setting sun is reflected from the windows of the alms-house as brightly as from the rich man's abode; the snow melts before its door as early in the spring. I do not see but a quiet mind may live as contentedly there, and have as cheering thoughts, as in a palace.
If she'd been lame or a hunchback I'd have probably fallen in love with her even more... Yes, it was a sort of spring fever.
Faith does not, in the realist, spring from the miracle but the miracle from faith. If the realist once believes, then he is bound by his very realism to admit the miraculous also.
To my thinking, miracles are never a stumbling block to the realist. It is not miracles that dispose realists to belief...Faith does not, in the realist, spring from the miracle but the miracle from faith.
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, wintery 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 died for no reason.
Don't go fighting against the Spring.
I suppose the best kind of spring morning is the best weather God has to offer.
If he does go, the change will be doleful. Suppose he should be absent spring, summer, and autumn: how joyless sunshine and fine days will seem!
Spring is the time of year when it is summer in the sun and winter in the shade.
We are the local embodiment of a Cosmos grown to self-awareness. We have begun to contemplate our origins: starstuff pondering the stars; organized assemblages of ten billion billion billion atoms considering the evolution of atoms; tracing the long journey by which, here at least, consciousness arose. Our loyalties are to the species and the planet. We speak for Earth. Our obligation to survive is owed not just to ourselves but also to that Cosmos, ancient and vast, from which we spring.
It was a day in March, and the sky was a faint green with the first hint of spring. In Central Park, five hundred feet below, the earth caught the tone of the sky in a shade of brown that promised to become green, and the lakes lay like splinters of glass under the cobwebs of bare branches.
But other people fast or walk long pilgrimages to honor the spirit of what they believe makes our world whole and lovely. If we gardeners can, in the same spirit, put our heels to the shovel, kneel before a trench holding tender roots, and then wait three years for an edible incarnation of the spring equinox, who's to make the call between ridiculous and reverent?
Red is the first color of spring. It's the real color of rebirth. Of beginning.
In an ideal world, we'll have a cold, wet spring. If we have a cold, wet spring, it means there's absolutely no reason to garden, no reason to jump on a bike, but you can still go to the mountains and ski and get your exercise.
Spring training performances are totally skewed most of the time.
They missed the bulk of the recruiting period. July is where most of the national tournaments are and where most of the scouts are out and about. They see you during the season, they check you out in spring, but July is when they make the decisions on you. July is decision-making time for college coaches.
We kind of had him ahead of the others coming out of spring training.
We need to eliminate prolonged waiting times for students to get an appointment with an adviser, ... There were waiting times of up to six weeks for advising last spring.
Ole Miss has extended a helping hand ever since our construction started in the spring of last year. They were as accommodating as you could ask anybody to be in helping us out with this.
My command needs some work and it starts with my fastball. I'm confident it will be there at the end of the spring. I felt good, my endurance and arm strength were good. I just need more work.
I am so proud of Janie. It has been an honor to be a part of her life and golf career for the past four years. Our program will miss her next spring.
Nick's done a great job at shortstop this spring. He worked on it (before he came to camp). He's done a fine job.
We're doing what we do every year, every spring, (which) is build our team and try to make it as competitive as we can heading into training camp and the regular season in the fall. That goes for every position and every player, across the board.
Moving from the theological to the practical implications of Sony's snafu, the company couldn't have picked a worse time to offend its customers. Sony has already conceded a six-month head start to competitor Microsoft in the upcoming market-share battle for the next generation of game consoles. Microsoft's Xbox 360 is expected to debut this fall Sony's PlayStation 3 will not arrive until the spring of 2006.
No, Queer Eye has a book coming out before mine, in the Spring of 2004, in which each of us has a section and we do a brief overview of our subject area.
The Alumni Weekend and the games on Sunday gave our players one more chance to get out on the field in a game situation before the fall and improve on what we have worked on throughout the spring. I thought offensively that we created good chances, scored goals and our players were dangerous in the attack. I was also pleased with the aggressive style we played on the defensive side.
HAIL, beauteous stranger of the grove Thou messenger of Spring Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat, And woods thy welcome ring. What time the daisy decks the green, Thy certain voice we hear Hast thou a star to guide thy path, Or mark the rolling year Delightful visitant with thee I hail the time of flowers, And hear the sound of music sweet From birds among the bowers. The schoolboy, wand'ring through the wood To pull the primrose gay, Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear And imitates thy lay. What time the pea puts on the bloom, Thou fli'st thy vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands, Another Spring to hail. Sweet bird thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No Winter in thy year O could I fly, I'd fly with thee We'd make, with joyful wing, Our annual visit o'er the globe, Companions of the Spring.
I've never heard of anything like this. What I have heard about though is that typically in the spring time there are small petty thefts around Riverside for things such as bicycles, because people tend to leave garage doors open.
I'll decide the good things, the bad things about the spring and figure out a final decision about what I'm going to do.
It's been a long time, ... The last time I watched it was probably last spring.
It is so sad when you see something like this, especially this early in the morning and kids are on their way to school, the first day of spring.
I'd anticipated the Liberals would want to delay the election at least until the spring, if not longer, ... But look, if there's a necessity to have a fall election and the NDP ceases to prop up the government, that could still happen.