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I cannot love as I have loved, And yet I know not why; It is the one great woe of life To feel all feeling die.
Oct 2, 2025
His Majesty [the Lord] . . . rewards great services with trials, and there can be no better reward, for out of trials springs love for God.
Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain.
Always it’s Spring)and everyone’s in love and flowers pick themselves.
The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love.
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!
Oh, how this spring of love resembleth, The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all beauty of the Sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away
I want to do to you what spring does with the cherry trees.
I love spring anywhere, but if I could choose I would always greet in a garden.
Spring is when you feel like whistling even with a shoe full of slush.
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.
When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest.
You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.
And Spring arose on the garden fair, Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere; And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.
Spring is nature's way of saying, 'Let's party!'
Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems.
To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.
In dreams and in love there are no impossibilities.
Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it is found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration.
I stare out the window and wait for spring.
People ask me what I do in winter when there's no baseball. I'll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.
A poet, any real poet, is simply an alchemist who transmutes his cynicism regarding human beings into an optimism regarding the moon, the stars, the heavens, and the flowers, to say nothing of Spring, love, and dogs.
Love is an act of endless forgiveness, a tender look which becomes a habit.
'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
It is best to love wisely, no doubt; but to love foolishly is better than not to be able to love at all.
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