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"I wonder if the snow the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again."
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seasons
winter
nature
snow
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Lewis Carroll |
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April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.
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seasons
poetry
cruelty
weather
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T.S. Eliot |
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Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first September was crisp and golden as an apple.
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seasons
color
art
fall
autumn
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J.K. Rowling |
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But when fall comes, kicking summer out on its treacherous ass as it always does one day sometime after the midpoint of September, it stays awhile like an old friend that you have missed. It settles in the way an old friend will settle into your favorite chair and take out his pipe and light it and then fill the afternoon with stories of places he has been and things he has done since last he saw you.
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seasons
september
fall
summer
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Stephen King |
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Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning, spring.
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seasons
spring
beginning
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Truman Capote |
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If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.
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seasons
winter
life
inspirational
appreciation
adversity
spring
hardship
prosperity
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Anne Bradstreet |
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Nostalgia in reverse, the longing for yet another strange land, grew especially strong in spring.
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seasons
life
spring
desire
wanderlust
nostalgia
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Vladimir Nabokov |
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Her in the walk must arise from the exercise and the day, from the view of the last smiles of the year upon the tawny leaves and withered hedges, and from repeating to herself some few of the thousand poetical descriptions extant of autumn--that season of peculiar and inexhaustible influence on the mind of taste and tenderness--that season which has drawn from every poet worthy of being read some attempt at description, or some lines of feeling.
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seasons
poets
nature
fall
walking
pleasure
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Jane Austen |
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"Is not this a true autumn day? Just the still melancholy that I love - that makes life and nature harmonise. The birds are consulting about their migrations, the trees are putting on the hectic or the pallid hues of decay, and begin to strew the ground, that one's very footsteps may not disturb the repose of earth and air, while they give us a scent that is a perfect anodyne to the restless spirit. Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns." [ , Oct. 1, 1841]" --
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seasons
nature
fall
weather
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George Eliot |
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Au milieu de l'hiver, j'apprenais enfin qu'il y avait en moi un ete invincible.
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seasons
strength
hardship
self
summer
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Albert Camus |
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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.
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seasons
spring
fall
ernest-hemingway
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Ernest Hemingway |
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oh shit it's shit
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seasons
hayworth
novella
rita
shawshank-redemption
shit
stephen-king
prison
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Stephen King |
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It was one of those perfect English autumnal days which occur more frequently in memory than in life.
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seasons
fall
england
weather
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P.D. James |
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The seasonal urge is strong in poets. Milton wrote chiefly in winter. Keats looked for spring to wake him up (as it did in the miraculous months of April and May, 1819). Burns chose autumn. Longfellow liked the month of September. Shelley flourished in the hot months. Some poets, like Wordsworth, have gone outdoors to work. Others, like Auden, keep to the curtained room. Schiller needed the smell of rotten apples about him to make a poem. Tennyson and Walter de la Mare had to smoke. Auden drinks lots of tea, Spender coffee; Hart Crane drank alcohol. Pope, Byron, and William Morris were creative late at night. And so it goes.
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|
seasons
winter
poets
poetry
writing
apple
april
auden
byron
de-la-mare
insomnia
longfellow
may
morris
nocturnal
season
september
shelley
spender
tennyson
pope
apples
coffee
spring
wordsworth
milton
fall
hart-crane
autumn
tea
keats
night
writers
burns
schiller
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Helen Bevington |
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When you're young you prefer the vulgar months, the fullness of the seasons. As you grow older you learn to like the in-between times, the months that can't make up their minds. Perhaps it's a way of admitting that things can't ever bear the same certainty again.
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seasons
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Julian Barnes |
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We say that flowers return every spring, but that is a lie. It is true that the world is renewed. It is also true that that renewal comes at a price, for even if the flower grows from an ancient vine, the flowers of spring are themselves new to the world, untried and untested. The flower that wilted last year is gone. Petals once fallen are fallen forever. Flowers do not return in the spring, rather they are replaced. It is in this difference between returned and replaced that the price of renewal is paid. And as it is for spring flowers, so it is for us.
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seasons
death
renewal
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Daniel Abraham |
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"We don't take orders from you, Sergeant." Quain said. "Your man tried to assassinate-" "He isn't mine. man has eyes that change color with the seasons."
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seasons
color
avry
kerrick
eyes
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Maria V. Snyder |
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"Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard." [ ]"
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seasons
fall
fruit
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Walt Whitman |
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Except. What is normal at any given time? We change just as the seasons change, and each spring brings new growth. So nothing is ever quite the same.
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seasons
maturity
growth
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Sherwood Smith |
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In Ohio seasons are theatrical. Each one enters like a prima donna, convinced its performance is the reason the world has people in it.
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seasons
weather
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Toni Morrison |
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There was a filmy veil of soft dull mist obscuring, but not hiding, all objects, giving them a lilac hue, for the sun had not yet fully set; a robin was singing ... The leaves were more gorgeous than ever; the first touch of frost would lay them all low to the ground. Already one or two kept constantly floating down, amber and golden in the low slanting sun-rays.
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seasons
winter
time
beauty
death
garden
gardens
north-and-south
outside
fall
dusk
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Elizabeth Gaskell |
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A thin grey fog hung over the city, and the streets were very cold; for summer was in England.
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seasons
fog
england
cold
summer
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Rudyard Kipling |
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"October knew, of course, that the action of turning a page, of ending a chapter or shutting a book, did not end the tale. Having admitted that, he would also avow that happy endings were never difficult to find: "It is simply a matter," he explained to April, "of finding a sunny place in a garden, where the light is golden and the grass is soft; somewhere to rest, to stop reading, and to be content."
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seasons
reading
satisfaction
happiness
ending-a-chapter
turning-a-page
fairy-tale
happy-ending
season
october
book
garden
tale
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Neil Gaiman |
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Our winters are very long here, very long and very monotonous. But we don't complain about it downstairs, we're shielded against the winter. Oh, spring does come eventually, and summer, and they last for a while, but now, looking back, spring and summer seem too short, as if they were not much more than a couple of days, and even on those days, no matter how lovely the day, it still snows occasionally.
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seasons
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Franz Kafka |
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All seasons have something to offer
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seasons
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Jeannette Walls |
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Accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields. And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
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seasons
grief
sorrow
joy
life
acceptance
serenity
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Kahlil Gibran |
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To animals they were just the weather, just part of everything. But humans arose and gave them names, just as people filled the starry sky with heroes and monsters, because this turned them into stories. And humans loved stories, because once you'd turned things into stories, you could change the stories.
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seasons
words
stories
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Terry Pratchett |
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"In the summer heat the reapers say, "We have seen her dancing with the autumn leaves, and we saw a drift of snow in her hair."
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seasons
winter
leaves
season
her
summer
snow
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Kahlil Gibran |
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These marvels were great and comfortable ones, but in the old England there was a greater still. The weather behaved itself. In the spring all the little flowers came out obediently in the meads, and the dew sparkled, and the birds sang; in the summer it was beautifully hot for no less than four months, and, if it did rain just enough for agricultural purposes, they managed to arrange it so that it rained while you were in bed; in the autumn the leaves flamed and rattled before the west winds, tempering their sad adieu with glory; and in the winter, which was confined by statute to two months, the snow lay evenly, three feet thick, but never turned into slush.
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seasons
winter
bucolic
old-times
spring
england
summer
weather
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T.H. White |
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She told us about the goddess called Persephone, who was forced to spend half a year in the darkness deep underground. Winter happened when she was trapped inside the earth. The days shrank, they became cold and short and dark. Living things hid themselves away. Spring came when she was released and made her slow way up to the world again. The world became brighter and bolder in order to welcome her back. It began to be filled with warmth and light. The animals dared to wake, they dared to have their young. Plants dared to send out buds and shoots. Life dared to come back.
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myth
seasons
winter
nature
life
spring
return
persephone
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David Almond |
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But I know Jesus arose. I feel his presence now, here, with me. I see the evidence of his Word everyday. From creation forth, the whole world is witness to God's plan revealed through his Son. From the beginning, he prepared us. In the passing of the seasons; in the way flowers spring forth, die, and drop seeds for life to begin again; in the sunset and sunrise. Jesus' sacrifice is reenacted every day of our lives if we but have the eyes to see.
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|
seasons
jesus
sacrifice
god
witness
sunset
evidence
flowers
die
eyes
sunrise
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Francine Rivers |
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The mountain trees that grew between the pines were a brilliant blaze of fall colors, like fire against the emerald green of the pines, firs and pruces. And it was, as I'd told myself long ago, the year's last passionate love affair before it grew old and died from the frosty bite of winter.
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seasons
winter
change
love
passionate
trees
fall
colors
fire
running
|
V.C. Andrews |
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" Every season hath its pleasures; Spring may boast her flowery prime,
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seasons
spring
fall
|
Thomas Moore |
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To nature lovers, the season of new beginnings is the spring, but to people who excel in school, it's the fall.
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|
seasons
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Anne Fadiman |
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That winter arrived immediately, all at once -- you could watch it come. Twin curtains of white appeared in the north, white all the way to the sky, driving south like the end of all things. They drove the wind before them and it ran like wolves, like floodwater through a cracked dyke. Cattle galloped the fencelines, bawling. Trees toppled; a barn roof tumbled over the highway. The river changed directions. The wind flung thrushes screaming into the gorge and impaled them on the thorns in grotesque attitudes.
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seasons
winter
|
Anthony Doerr |