Emily Dickinson Quotes

Spring, / you are a pinking shears: you cut / fresh edges on the world.

Sweet April showers do spring May flowers.

The cool wind blew in my face and all at once I felt as if I had shed dullness from myself. Before me lay a long gray line with a black mark down the center. The birds were singing. It was spring.

The first wild-flower of the year is like land after sea.

Meanwhile spring arrived. My old dejection passed away and gave place to the unrest which spring brings with it, full of dreams and vague hopes and desires.

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

Spring drew on... and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that hope traversed them at night and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.

The snow has at last melted, the fields regain their herbage, and the trees their leaves.

Fresh spring! / The world is only Nine days old - / These fields and mountains!

For, as when the red-cheeked, dancing girls, April and May, trip home to the wintry, misanthropic woods; even the barest, ruggedest, most thunder-cloven old oak will at least send forth some few green sprouts, to welcome such glad-hearted visitants . . .

Almond blossom, sent to teach us That the spring days soon will reach us.

The trees are coming into leaf Like something almost being said; The recent buds relax and spread, Their greenness is a kind of grief. Is it that they are born again And we grow old? No, they die too. Their yearly trick of looking new Is written down in rings of grain. Yet still the unresting castles thresh In fullgrown thickness every May. Last year is dead, they seem to say, Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

Heaven's Virginia when the year's at its Spring.

Still sweet with blossoms is the year's fresh prime.

In our hearts those of us who know anything worth knowing know that in March a new year begins, and if we plan any new leaves, it will be when the rest of Nature is planning them too.

The first sparrow of spring! The year beginning with younger hope than ever!

How can I say what it was like to breathe again? I felt newborn. I staggered in the light of the world and took deep gulps of fresh sea air. It was late in the day: the wet mouth of the afternoon was full on my face. My soul blossomed in that brief moment as they led me out of doors. I fell, my skirts in the mud, and I turned my face upwards as if in prayer. I could have wept from the relief of light.

Beginning with doom in the bulb, the spring unravels.

Cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul.

Spring is very energising to me.

Poor, dear, silly Spring, preparing her annual surprise!