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The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month.

Every spring is the only spring, a perpetual astonishment.

The spring, summer, is quite a hectic time for people in their lives, but then it comes to autumn, and to winter, and you can't but help think back to the year that was, and then hopefully looking forward to the year that is approaching.

The coming and going of the seasons give us more than the springtimes, summers, autumns, and winters of our lives. It reflects the coming and going of the circumstances of our lives like the glassy surface of a pond that shows our faces radiant with joy or contorted with pain.

Spring has many American faces. There are cities where it will come and go in a day and counties where it hangs around and never quite gets there. Summer is drawn blinds in Louisiana, long winds in Wyoming, shade of elms and maples in New England.

For every person who has ever lived there has come, at last, a spring he will never see. Glory then in the springs that are yours.

Early spring is the time for vigorous change, a preparation for the heat-driven oppression that is to come.

I've seen a lot of seasons, change in my time. It's been a very lucky life.

Spring is nature's way of saying, 'Let's party!'

Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer does come.