Susan Orlean Quotes

One may prefer spring and summer to autumn and winter, but preference is hardly to the point. The earth turns, and we live in the grain of nature, turning with it.

Let us love winter, for it is the spring of genius.

I love better to count time from spring to spring; it seems to me far more cheerful to reckon the year by blossoms than by blight.

In winter, I plot and plan. In spring, I move.

Only with winter-patience can we bring the deep-desired, long-awaited Spring.

All through the long winter, I dream of my garden. On the first day of spring, I dig my fingers deep into the soft earth. I can feel its energy, and my spirits soar.

Spring never is spring unless it comes too soon.

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.

No Winter lasts forever, no Spring skips its turn. April is a promise that May is bound to keep, and we know it.

You ought to know that October is the first Spring month.

Generations of men are like the leaves. In winter, winds blow them down to earth, but then, when spring season comes again, the budding wood grows more. And so with men: one generation grows, another dies away.

Winter isn't forever. Winter is always followed by spring. And it's how to take advantage of whatever season you're in.

And then, despite everything, I smiled and looked at the note and knew that spring would come —it always does. so I stared out that cold window, watching my breath collect on the glass, trying not to think about my life after the thaw.

Again the blackbirds sings; the streams Wake, laughing, from their winter dreams, And tremble in the April showers The tassels of the maple flowers.

The streams, rejoiced that winter's work is done, Talk of to-morrow's cowslips as they run.

Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.

Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: The Bird of Time has but a little way To fly-and Lo! the Bird is on the Wing.

They were pleasant spring days, in which the winter of man's discontent was thawing as well as the earth, and the life that had lain torpid began to stretch itself.

At the end of the season of sorrows comes the time of rejoicing. Spring, like a well-oiled clock, noiselessly indicates this time.

Spring is the time of plans and projects.