Love all the seasons <3
One swallow does not make a spring; neither does one fine day. ~ Aristotle
Sound loves to revel in a summer night. ~ Edgar Alan Poe
For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. ~ Song of Solomon 2:11 (King James Version)
The summer hath his joys,
And winter his delights;
Though love and all his pleasures are but toys,
They shorten tedious nights.
~ Thomas Campion
Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each. .
~ Henry David Thoreau
Autumn arrives in the early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day.
~ Elizabeth Bowen
Season of mists and mellow fruitlessness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-leaves run. ~ John Keats
Snowy, Flowy, Blowy,
Showery, Flowery, Bowery,
Hoppy, Croppy, Droppy,
Breezy, Sneezy, Freezy.
~ George Ellis, The Twelve Months
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
~ Robert Louis Stevenson
The spring, the summer, the chilling autumn, angry winter, change their wonted liveries. ~ William Shakespeare
When Summer gathers up her robes of glory,
And, Like a dream of beauty, glides away. ~ Sarah Helen Whitman
Sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud;
And after summer evermore succeeds
Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold:
So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.
~ William Shakespeare
There is no season such delight can bring,
As summer, autumn, winter, and the spring.
~ William Browne
All that is harmony for thee, O Universe, is in harmony with me as well. Nothing that comes at the right time for thee is too early or too late for me. Everything is fruit to me that thy seasons bring, O Nature. All things come of thee, have their being in thee, and return to thee. ~ Marcus Aurelius
Perceiv'st thou not the process of the year,
How the four seasons in four forms appear,
Resembling human life in ev'ry shape they wear?
Spring first, like infancy, shoots out her head,
With milky juice requiring to be fed: ...
Proceeding onward whence the year began,
The Summer grows adult, and ripens into man....
Autumn succeeds, a sober, tepid age,
Not froze with fear, nor boiling into rage; ...
Last, Winter creeps along with tardy pace,
Sour is his front, and furrowed is his face. ~ Dryden