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That is one good thing about this world... there are always sure to be more springs.

Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings.

My art springs from my desire to have things in the world which would otherwise never be there.

Behold, my friends, the spring is come; the earth has gladly received the embraces of the sun, and we shall soon see the results of their love!

I love feeling the crispness of fall and the sensuality of spring.

Love is like a beautiful flower which I may not touch, but whose fragrance makes the garden a place of delight just the same.

The spring of love becomes hidden and soon filled up.

Every gift which is given, even though it be small, is in reality great, if it is given with affection.

The beautiful spring came; and when Nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive also.

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.